


Somewhere That's Green (or, Suddenly Christopher)

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, First Time, Frottage, High School, M/M, Making Out, Rivalry, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school drama club AU.  Karl just rolled his eyes.  “Look, Zach’s my best friend, but he needs to learn how to deal with not getting the lead for once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withthepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/gifts).



> Warning: underage sexuality (both participants are 17), mention of past relationships

_Little Shop of Horrors_ – Cast List

• Seymour Krelborn — **Chris**  
• Audrey — **Zoe**  
• Mr. Mushnik — **John**  
• Chiffon — **Winona**  
• Crystal — **Rachel**  
• Ronnette — **Jennifer**  
• Audrey II (voice) — **Karl**  
• Audrey II (manipulation) / Wino #1 — **Simon**  
• Orin Scrivello, Narrator, Wino #2, Customer, Radio Announcer, Bernstein, Mrs. Luce, Skip Snip, and Patrick Martin — **Zach**

John gaped at the piece of paper taped to the whiteboard, reading it again in case he’d been having a mini-stroke the first time.  It wasn’t that he was cast as the cranky old Polish man – Mr. Abrams did always like to shake things up.  No, the real surprise was the name at the top of the cast list.  And the name at the bottom.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Karl wander up – and then felt a hearty punch to the arm. “I just feel bad for the audience,” Karl chuckled.  “Denied the sight of my gorgeous face.  My legion of fans will have to settle for my mellifluous voice.”

John just stared blankly at him.  “Has Zach seen this yet?”

Karl’s mouth set into a grim line.  “Negative.  Does it make me a bad person that I kind of want to be here when he does?”

“All I know is I don’t want to be within choking range,” John said with a loud gulp.  “Somebody’s gonna die.”

Karl just rolled his eyes.  “Look, Zach’s my best friend, but he needs to learn how to deal with not getting the lead for once.”

John probably wouldn’t have said that aloud, but he basically agreed.  He didn’t begrudge Zach his talent, but getting lead roles semester after semester did nothing to deflate his ego.  For the last few weeks, he’d been talking like it was a given that he’d be cast as Seymour, but instead somebody named Chris had gotten the part.  The drama club was a pretty small, tight group, so John was surprised not to recognize the name.  “Do you know who Chris is?”

“Never heard of him.  But I saw this one guy run in late to audition – that must’ve been him.”

“New kid?”

“I’ve seen him before.  I think he’s on the baseball team.  Or, I don’t know, maybe not on the team anymore, because he sure as hell can’t go to practices and do the play.”

It was so absurd that John felt his lips curve up into a slightly manic smile.  “A jock swooped in and stole Zach’s part?  Somebody’s gonna _die_.”

&&&

Zach knew he was being childish.  He did.  That didn’t stop him from whining.  “Mr. Abrams, I don’t understand.”

The man smiled patiently.  “Zach, I know you’re upset.”

“I’m not—” Fortunately, Zach realized how ridiculous it was before he said it.  “Okay, I’m a little upset.  What was wrong with my audition?”

“Absolutely nothing.  It was fantastic.  That’s why I cast you as Orin.  We need somebody who can play a comedic villain without going too over the top.”

“But—” _He dies halfway through the damn play_ , Zach thought. 

“And with the other small roles, you’ll have a ton of stage time, get to do a lot of different things.  I think you’ll really like it.”

Zach knew he was being ungrateful and more than a little pathetic, but acting was his thing.  It was just what he did.  And the fact that some new guy that no one had ever heard of had just waltzed in and taken Zach’s place was just not cool.  “What’s the deal with this ‘Chris’ guy, anyway?  Where did he even come from?”

“The varsity baseball team,” Mr. Abrams said cheerfully, as though that fact wasn’t going to raise Zach’s blood pressure to dangerous levels.  “Apparently, he’s decided to try something new.  His audition was really impressive.”

Zach didn’t even know how to respond to that.  “Is this a real thing?  Like, he’s really into this?  His jock buddies aren’t going to show up at rehearsal and make fun of us?”

“Prejudice, Zach,” Mr. Abrams scolded, and Zach wondered if his teacher had ever even met anyone on the baseball team.  Most of them looked hot in those tight little pants, but that was about all they were good for.

“This is a good thing,” Abrams continued.  “We need some new blood around here.  And if you’re going to act professionally, you know you won’t always be working just with your friends.”

Zach shook his head.  “I still think this is a mistake.”

“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion.  But don’t judge him until you’ve seen him do his thing.  Remember, he’s the one out of his element here, not you.”

 _Maybe he should stick to his element_ , Zach thought, but he said, “Yeah, alright.”

“I think you’re going to love being the sadistic dentist,” Mr. Abrams said with a grin.  “Getting in touch with your inner bad guy.”

 _Who gets fed to a frickin’ plant at the end of Act One_.  Zach sighed.  He had to get going or he’d be late to pre-calc.  “Bye, Mr. Abrams.”

“First read-through’s this afternoon!”

&&&

It was a disaster.  Well, according to Zach it was.

The glimpses he got of Chris in between eye rolls only made him madder.  He looked fresh off the baseball field – lightly-freckled tan, sun-kissed hair.  The all-American boy next door.  There was no way he should’ve been cast as Seymour.  No one would buy Mr. Blue Eyes as the lovable loser struggling to get the girl to notice him.

The girl in this case was, unsurprisingly, Zoe.  She plopped down next to Zach on the dirty old couch at the back of Mr. Abram’s classroom.  “Don’t look so pathetic.  You know you’re looking forward to slapping me around.”

“Yes,” Zach groaned, “I can’t wait to be an abusive asshole.  It’s the role I was born to play.”

“Nuh-uh, you are _not_ complaining to me.  I’m not going to listen to that.  If you’re going to bitch about your part, do it to John or Karl.”

“Nope, not Karl,” Karl said, sitting on Zoe’s other side.  “Karl doesn’t want to hear it either.”

“And maybe Karl doesn’t want a ride home after rehearsal,” Zach sighed.

“Karl would rather walk than listen to Zach’s diva ranting about the unfairness of the universe, especially since Karl is now the voice of a bloody _plant_.”

“Zach is—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Zoe groaned, elbowing them both in the ribs.  “Zoe is wondering when her friends turned into 10-year-old girls.”

“Aww, dammit,” John muttered, surveying the full couch.

“Should’ve gotten here sooner,” Karl admonished.

“Not my fault, I have to walk all the way from the art building.  Okay, so whose lap am I sitting on today?”

Zach, Zoe, and Karl all managed to say “Not it!” at the same time.

John just grinned.  “Okay, all of you then.”  Without further ado, he stretched out across all of their laps, propping his feet on one armrest and his elbow on the other.

Mr. Abrams walked in, Diet Coke in hand.  “Guys, we talked about this.  The orgy rumors didn’t just spring up out of nowhere.”

“Hey, three-quarters of us have our feet on the floor,” Zach protested.  “That’s a pretty lame orgy.”

“Seriously.  If the principal walks in, I don’t want to have to explain Cuddle Time to him.  Again.”

Karl glanced at Zach and Zoe, and they all jumped up from the couch at once, dumping John unceremoniously to the floor.  Before he could get up, the three of them sat back down.  Undaunted, John turned around and shoved his butt between Karl and Zoe.  “Scootch over, ladies.”

The couch was absolutely not designed for four people, and Zach ended up crushed against the armrest.  By then, most of the rest of the cast had wandered in.  Rachel, who was both one of the street urchins and the stage manager, was pulling a notebook out of her bag.  Jen and Simon were cackling over something Simon had drawn in his notebook.   But Chris was sitting off to the side, looking vaguely nervous.  _Good_ , thought Zach.  A (large, ugly) part of him hoped Chris would realize he was out of his league and leave.  Mr. Abrams would be forced to admit his mistake and all would be right with the world again.

But as soon as Zach had the thought, Abrams started clearing his throat loudly until he had everyone’s attention.  “Alright, guys, time to get started.  Most of you know each other, but I’d like to introduce you all to Chris Pine.  Chris will be our Seymour.  You don’t scare easily, do you, Chris?”

He looked startled. “No?”

Mr. Abrams smiled.  “Good!  I try to keep the rest of these guys on their best behavior, but it rarely works.  They can come on a little strong.”

“I think I’ll deal,” Chris said, smiling so widely that his absurdly white teeth actually sparkled under the flickering florescent lights. 

When Zach looked around, he saw that the girls in the room were all gaping.  “Shut your mouth,” he muttered, nudging Zoe.  “Bugs will fly in.”

“Don’t care,” Zoe murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

“He’s so dreeeeamy!” John exclaimed in a stage whisper, looking right at Zach and fluttering his eyelashes.

Zach groaned and covered his face with the script.  “I hate you all.”

“Alright,” Mr. Abrams said, “enough of that.  Let’s get started on the read-through.  Has everybody got a copy of the script?”

Of course Chris didn’t have his yet.  Zach was willing to bet he didn’t even know anything about the play.  As Abrams handed him the script, Chris asked, “Do I have to… I mean, are we singing today?”

“Not today.  Just read the lyrics when you get to them.”

Zach just rolled his eyes.  Did this guy know anything?

&&&

Chris lucked out – the A/C in his car didn’t die until he was pulling into his driveway.  He sighed at the sputtering noise coming from the vents, not looking forward to fixing his piece-of-shit car again.  But at least the thing was still running.  Maybe he’d see if Eric could take a look at it.  If Eric still deigned to give him the time of day, that was.

Shouting a quick greeting to his parents, Chris headed straight back to his room, dumping his backpack on the floor and flopping down on the bed.  _It could have been worse_ , he thought.  _They could’ve actually thrown rotten vegetables at me.  Zach could’ve leapt up off the couch and strangled me like I know he wants to_.

After a few long moments of self-pity, he decided he really didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, and headed back out into the living room, following the scent of garlic and tomatoes into the kitchen, where his father was cooking dinner.  “Smells good,” he said.

 “I’m under strict instructions from your mother to keep stirring this so it doesn’t burn.  How was your day?  First rehearsal today, right?”

Chris groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”

“That bad?”

He opened the toaster oven, where the garlic bread was sitting to keep it warm, and yanked out a large hunk to stuff in his mouth.  For once his dad didn’t bother to scold him.  “I though’ thea’re people were s’posed to be all accepting an’ stuff,” Chris said around the huge wad of bread.

“They are,” his dad said.  “But they also tend to be extremely protective of their own.  It’s an insular little world.  I doubt they know what to make of you yet.  Imagine if one of them suddenly joined the baseball team and took over as first baseman.  How would your teammates react?”

“Not well, I guess.”  Actually, Chris knew exactly how they’d react, and it was part of the reason he’d left the team.  But it was also pretty amusing to imagine the crazy kid with the British accent staking out first base.  Did they have first base in cricket?

His dad smiled.  “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“For what, quitting like a quitter?”

“For realizing you weren’t happy where you were and being brave enough to make a change.  And maybe a little bit for giving the family business a shot.”

He just had to bring that up.  Chris tried not to roll his eyes – and failed.  “Dad, I’m _not_ gonna be an actor when I grow up.”

Eyes twinkling, his dad said, “Don’t rule anything out just yet.  And give the other kids some time to get to know you.  I guarantee they’ll like you.”

It was such a _parent_ thing to say, so Chris just nodded and went for the silverware drawer when his dad asked him to set the table.  Privately, he wasn’t sure any of the people he’d been introduced to today would warm up to him any time this century.  Especially not that Zach guy.  Chris wasn’t so oblivious that he didn’t know what an upset it was for him to get the lead role – or who he was displacing.  Still, it had been a little bit of a shock to see Zach holding court in Mr. Abrams’ classroom, sprawled on the couch like the lord of the manor when Chris had walked in.  Chris was used to facing down mammoth base runners who had probably been on steroids since junior high, but the look Zach shot at him had nearly made Chris’ balls shrivel.  He’d expected Zach to be a little hostile; he hadn’t expected him to be so… imperious.

 _Or so hot_ , a voice in the back of his head said.  Chris told it, in no uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up.  He had plenty of other problems to deal with.

&&&

Zach spent most of AP U.S. History staring off into space.  He’d have to ask Karl for his notes later, but his brain simply refused to focus on the Teapot Dome scandal or whatever.  He knew he was obsessing, but he couldn’t help it.

Chris was actually good.  Zach had been certain everyone would see what a farce it was until Chris pulled out his glasses for the read-through, shrank down in his seat a little, and _became_ Seymour.  All they were doing was reading the lines on the page and Zach could already see why Mr. Abrams had cast him.  Maybe that should have made it easier, but it only made Zach feel worse. 

The drama club wasn’t just Zach’s groups of friends; it was the one place where he felt most like himself.  People said things about them – they were freaks, they were gay, they were all sleeping together – but they didn’t care.  This Chris jerk had no right to waltz into his circle of friends.  Even as he thought it, he knew how petty it was.

The bell rang and Zach started mechanically shoving his things back into his backpack.  Karl loomed over him as he did.  “Hey, man, what planet were you on?”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes were completely glazed over the whole time.”

“Oh.”  _Crap_ , Zach thought, Karl had noticed.  “Stayed up late last night playing Call of Duty.  Can I borrow your notes?”

Karl rolled his eyes.  “Again?”

“C’mon, this is like the third time ever.  And who always looks over your papers before you turn them in, huh?”

“Not my fault you’re a human grammar-checker,” Karl muttered, but he pulled the notes out of his binder and handed them to Zach.  “I need them back by tomorrow, though.”

They walked together as far as the science building, where Karl had to go to physics, and Zach carried on to his English classroom.  They were in the middle of _Huckleberry Finn_.  Zach had already read it twice, but with any luck, talking about it would help him get his mind off Chris.

Chris, who darted into the classroom right in front of Zach, seemingly oblivious to him.  He went straight to the teacher and asked her something Zach couldn’t quite make out.  She picked up a book off her desk – a copy of Margaret Atwood’s _The Year of the Flood_ , Zach knew, he had one just like it at home – and handed it to Chris.  Zach could hear her say, “Of course.  I didn’t know who else it could belong to.  Just promise me you won’t read it during your other classes.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, smiling shyly.  “I promise I won’t.”

As Chris turned to go, he caught Zach staring openly at him.  They only locked gazes for a second, and then Zach quickly looked away, feeling slightly ashamed.  When he looked back up, Chris was on his way out, hurrying to get to his next class.  Zach tucked his backpack under his desk and sat down.  As far as he knew, Mrs. Barrett only taught AP English. He couldn’t think of any other reason for Chris to have left his book in there.

So it looked like this guy was smart as well as talented.  _Fantastic_ , Zach thought.  _Next thing you know, he’ll show up wearing a striped shirt and Chucks and they’ll just go ahead and get rid of me completely_.

&&&

Just about the only good thing about the situation was that Chris didn’t have to try to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he read Seymour’s lines.  “Hi Audrey.  You’re looking particularly radiant today.  Is that new eye makeup?”

Mr. Abrams interrupted him.  “Okay, I want you to cross to Zoe while you’re talking.  You want to get closer to her.”

Chris nodded as he reached for the pencil tucked behind his ear, but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor for the zillionth time.  His numb fingers fumbling as he picked it up, he quickly scribbled Abrams’ directions in his script.  Zoe read her next line, turning away from Chris.  Then John read, and it was Chris’ turn again.

“Chris, can I get you to cheat out a little bit?” Mr. Abrams asked.

Chris started to move, then faltered.  “You want me to… what?”  There was a moment of dead silence, and Chris prayed for a sinkhole to open up under his feet and swallow him whole.

Zoe took pity and leaned toward him, whispering “Keep your head facing me as we talk but turn your body so it’s about three-quarters facing the audience.  That’s called cheating out.”

“Th-thanks,” Chris stuttered, making another note in his script.  He could’ve sworn he heard snickering from the audience, where the actors not in the current scene sat, watching.  Where Zach sat.  But when Chris looked up, Zach appeared to be simply studying his lines in the script.

Chris tried to shake it off, continuing on through that scene, then the next.  Shit, he was on stage a _lot_.  He’d known that going in from reading the script, but it was only now that he was truly realizing it.  And he had a ton of lines to memorize.  How and when exactly was he going to do that?  Before Chris knew it, he had broken out into a sweat and his heart was beginning to pound.

Then the scene was over and Mr. Abrams was saying, “Alright, let’s take a break.  Five minutes, everyone.”

After an awkward glance around, Chris perched lightly on one of the folding chairs that was standing in for the flower shop’s counter and muttered, “Not like I’m gonna suck any less in five minutes.”

He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, but Zoe said, “It’s not you.  Y’know how smokers have cigarette breaks?  Mr. Abrams has Diet Coke breaks.  He gets the shakes without it.”

“Oh,” Chris said dumbly, still not quite able to look at her.

“You’re kicking ass, by the way,” she said, plopping down on the chair next to him.  “And you’ve never acted before?”

“Well, I was Neptune in my second grade production of Meet the Planets.”

“At least you weren’t Uranus.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Andy Mills ever quite got over it.  And the girl who played Pluto was doing fine up until a couple years ago when she found out her whole life was a lie.”

Zoe snorted with laughter and Chris finally cracked a smile.  “Not like I really absorbed all the theatrical terminology back then,” he said.

“Hey, a few years ago, none of us knew any of this stuff, either,” Zoe said with an indulgent smile.  “Well, except for Zach, but he’s been on stage since he could talk.  And he never lets anyone forget it.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s my friend and a great guy, but he’s not Al Pacino just yet.”

Chris flushed.  He felt a little guilty for it, but he was secretly glad to have found someone who wasn’t solidly on Zach’s side against him.  There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask.  “What’s the deal with him, anyway?”

“He’s not used to rejection,” she said, “not when it comes to theatre, anyway.”

“Yeah, I feel… kind of bad about that.”

“Don’t.  He’s a big boy; he’ll get over it.  And he’s got me and John and Karl to help him along.  I don’t think he’ll give you any crap to your face – he _shouldn’t_ , if he knows what’s good for him – but don’t take it.  Deep down, he knows he’s being a petty jerk, so if you call him on it, he’ll stop.”

The crack of an opening can heralded Mr. Abrams’ return and everybody scrambled to get back to their places.  “Hey, Zoe?” Chris said.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Thanks.  I’m really excited about the play, I just…”

“Yeah, it always sucks being the new guy.”

Chris hazarded a glance up at the audience, where Zach was sharing some kind of private joke with Karl and Simon.  “Yeah, it does.”

&&&

Zach yawned as he pulled into the mostly-empty school parking lot.  Rarely was he happy to be out of bed this early on a Saturday morning, but they were getting a head start on the set construction, which was tough to do during after-school rehearsals.  People teased him about getting his hands dirty, but Zach loved the process of creating a little world for the play, surrounded by his best friends.

He’d almost managed to forget that Chris would be there.  But since he and Karl, who he’d met up with on the way in, were a few minutes late, Zach arrived at the auditorium to find John and Zoe already chatting with Chris.  Zach shot Karl a look, but Karl didn’t return it, and Zach wondered if anyone was on his side anymore.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” said Mr. Abrams.  “We were just about to get started.”  He turned to the rest of the group.  “Alright, people, here’s how this is going to go.  Karl and Simon, since you’re both Audrey II, I want you to be the primary ones that build her.  Obviously, we don’t have the materials yet, but I want you two to hash out what you want her to look like, how you want her to move.  When you’ve got a rough sketch, bring it to me and we’ll talk.  The rest of you will be working on the flower shop set today.  The main builds are going to be the counter and the display cases.  Rachel has the plans and will split you up to work on them.”

Zach had just started to take a step toward the group when Mr. Abrams continued, “Zach, Chris, come with me.  I’ve got a special project for you.”  Zach managed to stifle the groan, but he knew he’d grimaced when he saw the answering look on Chris’ face.

They both shuffled reluctantly over to their teacher.  “Okay,” Mr. Abrams said, an overly cheerful smile on his face.  “Our flower shop is going to need some fake flowers.  Our budget limits us to the bargain bin at the craft store, but I have faith that you can find us some good stuff for cheap.  We’ll need some pretty drab-colored flowers for the beginning – probably end up distressing them so they look mostly dead – but more and more colorful stuff as the play goes on.  Talk to Rachel before you go, take a look at how much space you’re going to need to cover.”

Chris just nodded mutely and started over toward Rachel, but Zach hung back.  “Mr. Abrams, is it really time to be buying props yet?  Shouldn’t we be focusing on the build first?”

“I think the rest of us have the build covered for now.”

“But, I mean… my character has no use for the flower shop.  Shouldn’t it be Zoe or John going with Chris instead of me?”

“Don’t treat me like I just fell off the turnip truck and I’ll offer you the same courtesy,” Mr. Abrams said, his smile neither faltering nor giving anything away.  “You know exactly why I’m sending you.  Zach, you are absolutely essential to this play, but unless you adjust your attitude very soon, I will not hesitate to replace you with a freshman.  A really awful one.  I may be a well-respected teacher of theatre, but I am not above a bit of spite casting.”

Zach was pretty sure it was an idle threat.  Mr. Abrams took too much pride in his work to screw up the play just to teach Zach a lesson.  Probably.  Zach took quick mental stock of himself and found he wasn’t willing to risk it.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll go.”

“Thank you.  I’m not expecting you to be best friends, but you need to be able to work together.  I think you’ll find you have more in common than you expect.”

Zach glanced over to where Chris was standing with Rachel, going over the set design.  He was wearing baggy shorts and an old, paint-splotched t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, which revealed a stark farmer’s tan.  _And some really nice arms_ , Zach’s treacherous hindbrain announced.  With a sigh, he ventured over to the two of them just as they both started laughing, Rachel carefully eyeing Chris’ bare arms with a slightly predatory look.  _Wonderful_.

“Alright,” Zach announced.  “You ready to go?”

Chris turned to look at him.  “I think so.  Rachel was saying we’ll have three small display cases and a few shelves to fill, right?

She nodded, reaching in her bag for the money from their tiny prop budget.  “And be sure to get vases.  Nothing fancy, just stuff for basic display.”  She handed the money to Chris, who thanked her ever so politely, and Zach fought an eye roll and the urge to say _Get a room_.

“Can we take your car?” Chris asked as they left the auditorium.  “My air conditioning is broken.”

“Sure, fine,” Zach said, possibly not trying as hard as he could to keep the anguish out of his voice.  “I get to choose the music, though.  None of that country or hip-hop shit.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Zach could see Chris’ head drop a little, and he knew he’d just insulted Chris’ taste in music.  He felt a little bit bad about it, but whatever, Chris would get over it.  Zach wasn’t about to apologize.  They rode to the nearest craft store in painfully awkward silence save for the radio, which Zach had set to an oldies station in a partial concession to Chris.  Nobody didn’t like the Stones, right? 

Once in the store, Chris was all business.  “I think these will be cheaper if we buy a garland and just cut them apart by hand.  What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Zach said.  It actually was a good idea.  “And we can use whatever green stuff is left over to fill out the bouquets.”  He felt immediately embarrassed to have used the word “bouquets” in front of another guy, especially a jock.  “Or, y’know, whatever they’re called.”

Chris didn’t seemed to have noticed, and was already stretching up on his toes to pull a less beat-up looking garland from the top rack.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s bouquets.”  His t-shirt rode up as he reached, and Zach caught a glimpse of flat, toned stomach and hips.

He looked away quickly, heading for the display of cheap plastic vases.

They ended up with five bags full of “Florals and Floral Accessories” (according to the sign) and stuffed them all in Zach’s trunk before heading back to school.  Shopping for flowers had seemed to put Chris in an irrepressibly good mood, much to Zach’s dismay.

“So, you’re a junior too, right?” Chris asked, drumming his fingers on the arm rest.

“Yep,” Zach said, his eyes glued to the road.

“And you’re in AP English?  I saw you there the other day.”

“That was me.”

Zach refused to say more and Chris was quiet for a few moments before trying again.  “So, Zoe was saying you have an older brother in college?  My sister just started at UCLA last fall.”

Zach couldn’t help himself.  “Wow, we have so much in common.  Let’s be besties and study together and braid each other’s hair.”

Chris fell silent after that and a pang of guilt hit Zach low in the gut.  He really was being a bastard.  He opened his mouth to change the subject, but Chris cut in.  “Look, man, I get that you hate me.  I’d probably hate me, too, if I were in your position.  But could you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me when you mock me?  I mean, we are gonna have to interact on stage at some point.”

Zach felt his cheeks burn and despised himself for it.  “I don’t…  I’m trying really hard not to hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Chris mumbled.

“Yeah, okay, I suck.  I know it.  But I’ve been doing this forever.  I’m going to apply to some really high-level musical theatre programs next year, and Mr. Abrams says I’ve got a good shot of actually getting in.  This is all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life – acting and theatre.  You?”

Chris was quiet for a moment.  “No.  I don’t know.”

“What do you want to do?  Baseball?”

“Oh god, no,” Chris muttered, shaking his head.  “It was fun for a while, but I don’t… I don’t know.”

Zach knew he should probably shut up, but he kept going.  “So why now?  Why quit the baseball team the second half of your junior year and suddenly decide to try out for the school play?  Were you bored?”

“I don’t know.”

“You say that a lot.”

Chris sat up straighter in his seat.  “Look, I know you’re a better actor than me, okay?  You’ve been doing this forever, it’s your thing, and I know absolutely nothing.  I don’t know why Abrams cast me, but I want to do this play.  I’m _going_ to do this play.  I’ll get lost after this semester and you’ll never have to talk to me again.  Just try to at least act like you don’t want to kill me.”

“I don’t… shit,” Zach cursed, scrubbing his hand over his forehead.  “I’m sorry, alright?  I know I’m being a dick, I just can’t help it.”

“Well, try to get your dickitude under control,” Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the passenger window.

Zach couldn’t help it – he snorted.  “Dickitude?”  Chris turned to glare at him.  “I like it.”

Chris’ stare slowly softened.  “I considered going with ‘dickosity.’”

“Clearly not the superior option.  Though ‘dicksationality’ might have worked.”

Chris didn’t smile, exactly, but he relaxed back into his seat.  “I defer to your expertise, your exalted dickness.”

Zach did smile.  “That’s Lord Dickenstein to you.”

&&&

The great thing about having Mr. Cross for last period study hall was that he generally let class out well before the final bell rang.  He definitely wasn’t supposed to, but Chris wasn’t about to rat him out.  So the breezeway was empty when Chris got to his locker, which still reeked of sweaty socks despite the lemon-scented air fresheners dangling from various hooks.

Chris knelt to retrieve his calc book, which had made its way down to the bottom of the locker where clods of red clay still remained from the last time he stored his cleats there.  He sighed and brushed the book off, unshouldering his bag to cram it in among the textbooks, spiral-bound notebooks, and one script already in there.  A shadow loomed over his left shoulder and Chris braced himself.

“I should really beat the crap out of you.”

Ah, so Eric _was_ still talking to him.  In a way.  “Just fucking try it, Bana.  I will mess your shit up.”

As Chris got to his feet, Eric crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the lockers.  “Least you could’ve done is told me before you announced it to the entire fucking team, mate.”

“Sorry.  Next time I’ll call you first and we can have a heart-to-heart about it.  Share our feelings.”

Eric just grinned in a way that was starting to freak Chris out.  “So, is she hot?”

“Devastatingly,” Chris said.  “Who?”

“The girl you’ve left us for.  The drama babe.”

“There’s no…”  For a moment, Chris considered just going with it.  He could mention Zoe – even if Eric didn’t know who she was, Chris could point her out and Eric would nudge him in the ribs, wink, and then leave him alone.  But for some reason, Chris said, “It wasn’t about a girl.  I’m just… done with baseball.”

Chris could tell it was the wrong thing to say the second it left his mouth – he might as well have said he was done with oxygen for all the sense it made to Bana, who just shook his head sadly.  “You know what they’re going to say about you.”

Chris had to consciously stop himself from grinding his teeth.  “No.  What are they going to say about me?”

Eric sighed.  “Chris, don’t make me say it.”

“Just say it,” Chris spat, slamming his locker door.  He supposed he shouldn’t really be angry with Eric – who was just trying to look out for him, in his own way – but he’d been dancing around it too long in his own head.  “Look me in the eye and tell me what people are going to say.”

Looking at the floor, Eric mumbled, “Well, they’re not saying it yet.  But it’s only a matter of time.”

“I like girls,” Chris said, because it was true.  “I’m still hoping to get back together with Beau.”  That was somewhat less so. 

He had dated Beau for the better part of a year, and even after all that time she was still essentially a mystery to him.  She was smart and fun, and honestly, he was just happy that a pretty girl was willing to be seen with him in public.  But one week she was giving him his first – and, thus far, only – blowjob (which was fucking _awesome_ , by the way), and the next she was saying that she needed to take a break to focus on schoolwork, and if he wanted to get into a good college, he should do the same.  Chris hadn’t been upset so much as utterly baffled.  He supposed that was what all those stand-up comedians were going on about all the time about _women_.

So he did miss Beau, but life had become much less confusing after her.  Well, in some ways.  More than that, he wasn’t quite ready to think about.

“I believe you,” Eric said.  “And I can try to stick up for you…”

“I don’t need you protecting me,” Chris said, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground to keep from shaking.

“Well, good,” said Eric, looking a little taken aback.  “Just… be careful, okay?  You don’t want to be lumped in with them.”

He walked away then, and Chris’ face burned with a combination of anger and shame.  Anger that wanted to shout _better them than you_ , and shame that he’d never dare do it.

&&&

“Don’t need a ride tomorrow morning,” Karl said as they pulled up to the front of his house.  “I think my dad is taking me in.”

“Let me know if you need a ride home,” Zach replied, putting the car in park.

“Thanks.  Now, to spend the next twelve hours cramming a month’s worth of physics into my head.”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of empty space in there,” Zach said with a grin, and Karl flipped him off, only belatedly looking around to make sure his mom didn’t see.  “Bye.”

“See ya.”

Truthfully, Zach was glad of the company to and from school.  It wasn’t by any means a long drive, but it was one he’d taken with his brother for the last two years.  His brother who was now away at college, and though Zach had inherited his old car, Zach would trade it in a second to have Joe back in the driver’s seat.  Not that he would admit it.  From what Joe had told him over the holidays, college was the best thing in the history of ever.

Joe’s absence also made his home life more of a challenge.  It was just Zach and his mom now, and though he loved her, when Joe had been around, he’d acted as a buffer between them.  Now that he was out of the house, Joe was officially the Good Kid, with all the trouble that he’d gotten into gently reinterpreted as humorous childhood anecdotes.  Even now, nearly six months after Joe had moved out, Zach was still getting used to being the focus of his mom’s well-intentioned but near-constant nagging.

“It’s your turn in the barrel,” Joe had said the last time Zach had complained.

Before he knew it, Zach was home, scraping his feet on the mat and walking in the door with an obligatory, “Hey, mom, I’m back.”

“Hi sweetheart!” he heard her call.  “I thought you were supposed to be back an hour ago.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Rehearsal ran long again.  And I had to take Karl home, remember?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” she said, bustling into the living room with an armload of clean laundry.  “You ought to have a word with Mr. Abrams.  Rehearsal seems to run long almost every day.”

“Mom, you’ve only been home, what, fifteen or twenty minutes?  It’s not like I’m late for the dinner bell or anything,” Zach said, starting to pair up socks from the pile his mom had dumped on the couch.

“I’m concerned about your schoolwork, Zachary,” she said pointedly.  “You’re staying up much too late to finish it.”

“It’s fine, mom.  My grades are as good as they ever were.”

She looked at him as though she wanted to say something, but was holding herself back.  On another day, Zach might have tried to get it out of her, out of either peevishness or genuine concern, but he didn’t feel like dealing with it, so he just kept folding socks.

Eventually, his mom spoke up.  “So, how’s Zoe?”

 _Oh god, this again_.  “She’s fine.  I swear, she’s already got half her lines memorized.  I have no idea how she does it.”

“She’s a very smart girl,” she said with a firm nod, as though that proved something.  “You two get along so well.”

Zach felt the blood drain out of his face.  “She’s got a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” his mom said, evidently surprised.  “Has this been going on very long?  Because I don’t remember you mentioning—”

“Not long, I don’t think.  I don’t know.  She doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Oh,” she said again, more quietly this time.  “There’s no need to take that tone with me, Zachary.”

“Sorry, mom,” he muttered.  When the socks were done, he moved on to the t-shirts.

&&&

“Okay, did everybody bring their props?” Mr. Abrams asked, looking out across the auditorium seats.

Everyone began digging through their backpacks, including Chris.  He pulled out the plastic bag containing the thick-framed tortoiseshell eyeglasses he’d worn in middle school, the frame super-glued back together in two places, as well as a pair of suspenders on loan from his dad.  Mr. Abrams had asked them to bring some type of prop or bit of a costume that would help get them into character, and it had been depressingly easy for Chris to nerd it up.  He’d even spent a few moments looking at the orthodontic retainer in his medicine cabinet before ultimately deciding there was only so much suffering he wanted to do for his art.

Beside him, Zoe was pulling on a pair of bright yellow stilettos that came to a wicked point at the toe.  “Ugh,” Chris said with a grimace.  “Those hurt my feet just looking at them.”

Zoe just grinned.  “Aren’t they awful?  I found them at a thrift store and they almost fit me.  I can’t walk in them for more than two steps.  I may find myself leaning on you quite a bit.”  She fluttered her eyelashes at Chris, who laughed and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.  They must have worked, because he was blushing already.

He looked to his left, where Karl had a long section of some kind of leafy vine wrapped around his neck like a scarf and Simon was casually tugging on a pair of gloves tipped with long metallic claws, Freddie-style.  Winona was clipping a huge sequined bow into her hair and John popped a sour Warhead candy into his mouth.

“Looking good!” said Mr. Abrams with a chuckle.  “Alright, I’d like to try to get through Act I today.  Remember, off-book date for this is next Monday, so really start learning those lines if you haven’t already.”

Chris didn’t get a good look at what Zach had brought until they were backstage.  Well, sidestage, anyway, crammed in the small space near the stage right entrance.  As close as they were, Chris actually smelled the leather before he saw it.  It probably wasn’t Zach’s jacket – it looked a little too loose around the shoulders – but it was still really fucking impressive: sleek black leather with silver-zippered pockets.

Zach’s whole posture changed right before Chris’ eyes; he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back casually against the wall.  “So, what do you think?” he asked, staring at Chris down the bridge of his nose.

“It’s… uh,” Chris stammered, plucking nervously at his suspenders.  He was pretty sure Orin Scrivello D.D.S. was meant to be scary, not sexy.  “It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” Zach replied with a sharp, toothy grin, then added, “ _dweeb_.”

Chris rolled his eyes.  “ _Dentist_ ,” he shot back, and his heart leapt into his throat when Zach laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

The movie had been a bust, in Zach’s opinion, anyway.  It was entertaining enough, he supposed, but the cinematography was mediocre at best and the script was downright awful.  But John and Zoe seemed to have loved it, so he kept his thoughts to himself.  He’d been making an effort to do more of that lately.

Zach and Karl were the first to get their frozen yogurt, so they found a table near the corner with enough chairs for them all.  “I’m surprised Chris agreed to come with us,” Zach said casually as he sat.  Karl shot him a nasty look and Zach held up his hands defensively.  “No, I mean, I’m fine with him coming.  I’m glad he’s here.  I just… thought he’d have other things to do on a Friday night.”

“Uh huh,” Karl said, still watching Zach.

“C’mon, man, I’ve been nice to him.  You’ve seen it.”

“I’ve seen you two snarking at each other between scenes.”

“But it’s fun-snarky, not mean-snarky.  It’s how we communicate.  I’m actually starting to warm up to the guy.  Ask him!”

“Maybe I will,” Karl announced, swiveling in his seat as Chris walked up to the table.  “So Chris, has Zach stopped being a dick to you?”

Chris glanced nervously at Zach for a second, but said “He’s quit putting scorpions down the back of my shirt, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Zach dropped his jaw in faux shock.  “Uh, they were de-stingified scorpions, and I totally don’t get what the big deal is.”

Luckily, Chris played along.  “They still bite, dickweed!”

“Not with any venom!  Toughen up a little, you pus—dammit, Zoe, that hurts!” Zach yelped, clapping a hand over his ear where Zoe had flicked it.

John laughed, the bastard.  “Aw, c’mon Zoe.  That might’ve been the one and only time we’ll hear Zach talk about pussy.”

Zach’s eyes quickly darted to Chris, but he appeared to be happily shoveling green apple yogurt and butterscotch chips into his mouth.  And Zoe had kicked John under the table and moved on.  “John, you wouldn’t have even said that word if Rachel were here.”

Karl laughed around a mouthful of chocolate sauce and gummie bears.  “C’mon, mate, you don’t _still_ think you have a chance with her?”

“You’ll see,” John said, narrowing his eyes and pointing his spoon threateningly at each of them in turn.  “One day she’ll say yes, and you will all have to eat your thorny, bitter words, and I will watch you choke on them, and I will laugh.”

“Anyway,” Zoe said with an eye roll.  “So, Chris, did you like the movie?”

Chris shrugged.  “It was okay.”

“It’s alright,” said Karl, “Zach didn’t like it either.”

Zach turned on him.  “Hey, did I say—?”

“You didn’t have to.  You were rolling your eyes and sighing after every line!”

“Eh, the dialogue was pretty bad,” Chris cut in.  “Sometimes I wonder if those writers have ever actually heard real people speak to each other.”

Zach dropped his spoon in the cup, his yogurt temporarily forgotten.  “I know, right?  I mean, I get that it’s an action movie and all, but how many people have to read and hear that dialogue by the time that gets to the editing room?  And no one says ‘Wait, hold up, nobody needs to have “RUN RUN RUN” screamed at them when they’re _already running_?’”

“Nothing’s as bad as the Star Wars prequels, though,” Chris said, shaking his head gravely.

“Oh Anakin,” Zach began, and Chris chimed in for the end of the line.  “Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo!”

“This is embarrassing,” John said, shrinking down in his chair but taking his cup of yogurt with him.  “You are embarrassing me.”

“The American film industry is embarrassing you, man,” sighed Zach.

“Hey, isn’t that where you want to work?” Chris asked innocently.

Karl clamped a hand over Zach’s mouth before he could answer.  “Zachary here is a purist, committed entirely to the _the-ah-tah_.”

Zach gave Karl’s palm a good long lick, forcing him to draw back in disgust.  “I was going to say,” he began defensively, “yes, my first love is the theatre, but I wouldn’t mind doing movies, too.  I’d like to form my own production company someday.”

People usually laughed when Zach mentioned it (“people” largely being “Karl”), but Chris just nodded and said, “Cool.”

Zach contained the grin that threatened to spread across his face by mentally admitting the fact that Chris Pine was now officially off his Shit List.

&&&

The next rehearsal began by Mr. Abrams ushering a small, curly-haired kid into the auditorium.  The kid looked like he was about to wet himself with terror, and Chris had a horrible moment where he wondered if that’s what he’d looked like the day of their first read-through.

Mr. Abrams called Zach over.  “Zach, this is Anton.  He’s a freshman, and he’s volunteered to run lights and sound for us.”

As Zach shook Anton’s hand, Chris moved closer.  He was a little curious about the technical aspects of theatre and a lot curious about how Zach was going to treat another newcomer.

“I want to work with the chorus girls today,” Mr. Abrams was saying, “so I’d like you to show Anton our technical equipment.”

Zach’s eyebrows shot up.  “Now?  Is it set up?”

“Yep.  Hop to it.”

Zach chuckled.  “Alright, come on, Anton.  It’s a very sophisticated system we have, but with a few weeks’ practice, you should be able to master it.”

Chris followed them to the back of the auditorium, trying to look casual.  When Zach turned back around to face Anton and saw Chris standing behind him, he quirked an eyebrow at Chris, but didn’t comment.  Zach pointed to a switch on the wall.  “Okay, here we have our state-of-the-art lighting system.  It functions in two main modes: ‘on’ and… you might want to write this down, Anton… ‘off.’  We’re hoping to invest in a dimmer switch when the price of the technology finally comes down.”

Anton’s mouth hung open.  “I… what?”

“He’s messing with you,” Chris said, staring Zach down.

Zach stared back for a few moments, but then his face broke into a grin and he looked back at Anton.  “I totally am.  But not by much.  We have separate controls for house lights and stage lights, but that’s about it.”  He led them over to the folding table set up at the back of the room, upon which sat an ancient-looking mixing board.  “Okay, we do have a few more options when it comes to sound…”

As Zach led Anton through the various switches on the soundboard, Chris tried to listen, but most things were labeled or somewhat self-explanatory anyway.  He ended up mostly just observing Zach’s interaction with Anton, the way he patiently explained everything, then smiled when the younger boy finally got up the nerve to ask a question. 

 _So maybe that’s how it would be if I hadn’t introduced myself to him by taking his part_ , Chris thought.  It was a bit pointless to imagine, but Chris wished he’d gotten off to a better start with Zach.  He obviously knew his way around the theatre, and he could be a really nice guy when he wanted to be.  Despite rolling their eyes at his ego, Zach’s friends seemed to genuinely like spending time with him, outside rehearsal even.  And more and more, so did Chris.

“I don’t know if Mr. Abrams is planning on giving Karl one of the lapel mikes or what,” Zach was saying when Chris finally started to tune back in.  “That’s something you’ll need to ask him.”

“What, like, now?” Anton asked, his eyes wide.

Zach chuckled and glanced over at the stage, where Zoe was leading Rachel, Jen, and Winona through some basic choreography.  “No, not now.  Why don’t you hang out for a while and watch them rehearse?  And stop being so nervous – you’ve got weeks to figure this all out, and none of us actually bite.”

Anton nodded and scampered back down the aisle to find a seat, and Chris turned back to Zach.  “So all I have to do to get you to be nice to me is act like a terrified little puppy?”

Zach regarded him for a moment.  “Couldn’t hurt.  Let’s see it.”

Chris turned his feet pigeon-toed and hunched until he seemed to shrink down a few inches, wringing his hands and pitching his voice up an octave.  “M-m-mr. Quinto, sir?   C-could you please, please teach me how to act?  You’re _ever_ so good at it.”

Zach laughed aloud, looking a little surprised that he’d done it.  “Wow, I wasn’t expecting the full-on Dickensian wretch.  Nice job.”

Straightening up, Chris grinned.  “Did I overdo it?”

“Oh, no.  You could even stand to throw some more groveling in there.  You can never have too much groveling.”

“Oh my god, how do you even fit your ego through the doorway?” Chris groaned.

“I have to use the double doors,” Zach quipped, clasping his hands behind his back to stretch his shoulders.  His shirt pulled tight over his chest and Chris was surprised to see that despite his thinness, Zach wasn’t all skin and bones – he appeared to have some muscle on him.  Chris was even more surprised that he’d noticed, but fortunately, Zach didn’t appear to have caught him staring.

&&&

Home Depot had the hinges that Simon and Karl were looking for to build Audrey II’s working mouth, but not the lightweight plastic tubing for her vines and roots, so Chris and Zach were headed to Lowe’s to look for it.  Neither one complained that it was across town.

After a few moments of lull in the conversation, Zach couldn’t resist.  “So why’d you really quit the baseball team?”

Chris sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Is it that important?”

“I guess not,” Zach said.  “But I’m curious.”

Chris was silent for a long time, staring hard out the window as if trying to work up the courage to speak.  “So, you know the Punch-Buggy-No-Punch-Back thing?”

Zach was startled into laughing.  “Uh, _yeah_ , I have an older brother.”

“Well, we did that on the bus to away games.  But not just punch buggies – the guys expanded it to other cars.  You had to fart if you saw a Ford Fiesta, and then there was, uh… PT Cruiser Nut Crunch.  Which is pretty much just what it sounds like.”

He went quiet like that was supposed to mean something.  “Okay, you’ve lost me,” Zach said.

“Well, there are a lot of PT Cruisers on the road, right?  So everybody’s balls are getting grabbed all over the place.  And that’s, you know, whatever.  Sounds really stupid when you try to describe it, but kinda fun when everybody’s goofing around.”

“And so you’re… shy about your testicles?”

“What?” Chris’ face flushed darkly.  “No, it’s not just that.  There’s the usual ass-slapping, like a ‘good job’ kind of thing.  And some of the guys actually do compare dicks in the locker room.  It’s… well, I’ve never actually seen a gay porno, but I can’t imagine it’s too far off.”

Chris looked frustrated, on the verge of angry, and Zach’s heart sank in his chest.  Fuck, he’d been starting to think that Chris was a pretty good guy, that he wasn’t just some dumb homophobic jock. 

But then Chris continued, “So that’s just normal, right?  Nobody questions it.  But this one sophomore, some rumor started going around that he’d gotten drunk and kissed another guy at a party, and it got _brutal_.  They wouldn’t even call him by his name, just ‘faggot’ and ‘cocksucker’ all the time.  Somebody plastered his locker with pictures – some real nasty shit, animals and stuff.  The guy got really defensive at first, but that just made it worse, so finally he had to play along and pretend like he thought it was funny.  The coach sort of stepped in, but everyone was all ‘Oh, we’re just kidding, it’s just a joke,’ and so he backed off.”

Chris shook his head in disgust.  “It was… god.  Like, I’m not the nicest person ever, I know.  I’ve said some nasty stuff without thinking about what it really meant.  But to do that to someone?  Which is bad enough as it is, but all the while grabbing each other’s junk?  How fucking ignorant do you have to be?  But god help anyone who actually says that.  And I can’t believe I’m telling you all of this.”

By the time Chris finished, his hands were balled up into fists and his breath was huffing out in angry gusts.  It was obviously a subject he took very personally, and before Zach could think better of it, he asked, “It’s none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but are you…?”

“No,” Chris said quickly.  “But if I were…”

“Yeah,” Zach said, feeling his stomach drop.  Not like he thought Chris actually _was_.  Not really.  It would be too perfect, too easy.  That kind of thing didn’t happen to Zach.

“So, yeah.  I mean, not all the guys were like that.  My friend Eric, he refused to take part in it, even though he’s not, like, the most enlightened guy ever.  But he didn’t try to stop it, either.  I was too much of a coward to do anything about it, but it was disgusting and I just couldn’t be around that anymore.”

“So, what, you thought you’d go polar opposite?  Find a place where the gays are revered as gods?” Zach asked, managing to crack a smile.

“I guess,” Chris said through a soft laugh.  “Plus, my parents have always been… I guess _pushing_ isn’t quite the right word.  They never made me do anything I didn’t want to do.  But they’re both actors – well, my mom used to be – and they’re forever telling me that I’d just be, like, the best actor ever.”

“They’re both actors?” Zach asked, his jaw dropping.

“Yeah.”

“Anything I’d know?”

“Um, TV stuff mostly.  Do you know the show CHiPS?”

“I’ve heard of it.  My mom watches reruns of it sometimes.”

“Yeah, well,” Chris mumbled, blushing even harder than he had before.  “My dad was on that.  For a couple of years.  But mostly now it’s just occasional guest spots in things.”

“Chris!” Zach gasped, letting go of the wheel with his right hand to grab Chris by the shoulder.  It seemed to startle him, but Zach couldn’t find it in him to care.  “That is.  _So cool_.  How awesome is it to have actors as parents?”

“Uh, it’s okay, I guess.  I mean, we’re not, like, rich or anything.  Could you maybe watch the road?”

“But just being in that world, getting to go on the set of a show.  Did you ever do that?”

“Sometimes,” Chris said, starting to squirm a little but with the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.  “When I was a kid.  I don’t remember the CHiPS set, though.  I was too young.”

Zach was legitimately worried that he might squeal.  “Do they just sit you down and tell you all kind of acting secrets?”

“Uh, no?  I’ve actually been trying to keep them off my case about this whole thing.  My dad keeps getting all wistful about me going into the family business.  It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Zach tried to keep from looking scandalized.  How could Chris _not_ realize how awesome this was?  “Well, still.  Do you think I could talk to them sometime?  I’ll be cool about it, I swear, I won’t ask for an autograph or anything stupid like that.  I just want to talk to someone who’s actually been in the business.  Did they start out doing theatre?”

“I think so.  I mean, I know my mom was pretty big into drama club in high school.  My dad didn’t get into acting until college.”

“No wonder you’re so—” Zach started, barely catching himself in time.  “I mean, no wonder you decided to do theatre.  How come you never mentioned this before?  Oh my god, if my mom was an actor, I would totally tell everybody.  You wouldn’t be able to shut me up about it.”

Chris grimaced.  “When I was little, other kids in my class, kids I barely knew, would come over to play.  They would come over maybe once or twice, then never again.  I didn’t realize it for a long time, but it was because their parents just wanted to meet mine – usually my dad.  It’s not like we’re celebrities or anything, but things change once people learn who my parents are.”

“Oh,” said Zach, crestfallen.  “Shit.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay.  Most people only care because they’re sort of famous.  You care because they do what you want to do.”  A slow smile spread across Chris’ face.  “Besides, I’d imagine that this isn’t going to keep you from being a dick to me.”

With an internal sigh, Zach grinned.  “Not at all.  In fact, I might be _more_ of a dick just to compensate for all those people that were fake-nice to you.”

“Just what I need.”  Chris finally seemed to relax, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs out.  “Hey, what were you going to say earlier?”

“What?”

“You know, you said, ‘no wonder you’re so…’  Talented?  Hot?”

It was going to be the first one, but the second wasn’t any less true.  Zach didn’t let his smile falter.  “Humble.  I was going to say ‘humble,’ but I guess you’ve shot that all to hell.  _Now_ whose ego won’t fit through the door?”

&&&

“It’s not a real dentist’s chair, obviously,” Simon said.  “Those things weigh an effin’ ton.  But it’s a pretty good replica, right?”

The smile on Zach’s face was just shy of terrifying.  “Simon, it’s perfect.”

“Uh, how sturdy is it?” Chris asked, trying and failing to keep the anxiety out of his voice.  “The way the scene’s blocked, it has to hold both of us.”

“Oh, she’ll hold alright,” Simon said, looking inordinately proud.

Even Mr. Abrams looked impressed.  “Simon, where did you even…  You know what?  No.  I’m not even going to ask.  As long as you didn’t steal it.”  He paused, the smile dropping from his face.  “Simon, you _didn’t_ steal it...”

“No!  Found!  I found it!” Simon exclaimed, his eyes going wide and puppyish.  “This friend of mine, Nick, he likes to go looking for—”

 “Okay!” Mr. Abrams said brightly, clapping his hands with finality.  “Excellent!  We can finally run this scene properly.  Chris, let’s take it from your entrance.”

Chris nodded and breathed deeply.  This was one of two scenes he shared with Zach as Orin – just the two of them on stage.  It still varied pretty wildly depending on how Zach was feeling at the time; Chris admired him for trying new things with it, seeing what worked, but he was never sure how Zach would play it on any given day.  That was probably just how Zach wanted it.

When everything was set up and ready to go, Chris stumbled on from stage right.  Zach swung immediately around to look at him, a terrifying dental torture instrument in his hand, his face darkly menacing.  “Would you like it if I took this and made straight for your goddamn incisors?”

“We’re going with ‘damn incisors,’ Zach,” Mr. Abrams interrupted.

“Right, sorry,” Zach said quickly before getting back into character and rapidly advancing on Chris.  “It’d hurt, right?  You’d scream?”

 _Okay, so it’s less Steve Martin today and more Dennis Hopper_ , Chris thought.  _Fuck_.  He opened his mouth as if to stammer, but Zach grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the chair.

“Get your ass in here.” Zach said, then paused to stare into Chris’ eyes.  Chris didn’t have to fake the way he shrank down under that glare.  “Don’t I know you?

“S-Seymour Krelborn,” he stuttered.  “We met yesterday.”

Zach usually waited until the middle of his next line to throw Chris down into the chair, but he caught Chris completely off guard and did it before he began speaking.  Luckily, the chair had some cushion to it – actually more comfortable than the metal folding chairs they’d been using – but it also forced Chris to lie back nearly flat.  That made it much easier for Zach to grab him by the jaw and wrench his mouth open.  He leaned down so close that Chris could feel the heat radiating from his body.  “Your mouth’s a mess, kid.  That wisdom tooth.  We’ll rip that bugger right out of there.  What do you say?”

Chris could only breath again once Zach had pulled away to grab a prop off the tray of tools behind him.  The chair made an enormous difference – before, Chris had managed to get to his feet before Zach could swing back around with the drill, but now he struggled to even sit up.  He realized what a horribly vulnerable position he was in and his heart began to slam in his chest.

Zach rounded on him, easily pushing him back down by the shoulder.  “There’s always time for dental hygiene.”

“What’s that?” Chris gasped, staring wide-eyed at the object in Zach’s left hand.

“The drill,” Zach said with an evil-looking smirk.

It was actually just a large electric toothbrush with the bristles sawn off, not yet painted to look sinister, but Zach was already wielding it like a weapon.  “It’s rusty!”

“It’s an antique!  They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”  Zach bounced the thing up and down like he was hefting its weight.  “Sturdy.  Heavy.  _Dull_.”  He rolled each word around in his mouth like he was getting off on them, and Chris felt the horrible lightheadedness that preceded the rush of his blood down to his crotch.

Suddenly Zach stopped, blinking for a second, and then grinned widely.  “I’m gonna want some gas for this.”

“Thank god,” Chris sighed, actually grateful for the space between them when Zach crossed in front of him to pick up the tank at stage left.  “I thought you wouldn’t use any.”  Even though that space was about to disappear again.

Zach spun around, the grin still in place.  “Oh, the gas isn’t for you, Seymour.  It’s for me.”  His voice had dropped to a near purr.  “In fact, I’m going to use my special gas mask.  I find a little giggle gas before I begin increases my pleasure _enormously_.”

Chris struggled to get his breathing under control as Zach stalked him down, every bit the predator teasing his kill.  And _fuck everything_ , Chris’ was starting to get hard under that sadistically playful stare.  Zach was slinking toward him in a way that was downright sensual.  He might as well have been licking his lips and stripping his shirt as he went, which was a visual that Chris did _not_ need.

“Here we go!” Zach exclaimed, reaching back as though turning on the gas.  They didn’t have the mask for him to wear yet, so he had to mime pulling it down over his nose and mouth.  He tipped his head back and groaned with bliss.  “Oh, Seymour, I’m flying!”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Chris knew the next line and he was so completely screwed.  Zach was practically on top of him when he leaned down and growled “Ohhh, the things I’m gonna do to that mouth.”

Chris’ only saving grace was that he literally did have a gun in his pocket.  That line was his cue to fumble for the prop, struggling lightly with Zach until he could pull it free.  Which all worked fine in the folding chair when Chris was sitting up and didn’t have two solid armrests to contend with.  In the dentist’s chair, Zach was able to pin his arms, making reaching for the gun much more difficult.  And the more he struggled, the harder Zach held him down, managing to get a knee between Chris’ thigh and one of the arms for leverage. 

As Chris thrashed and Zach bore down, their upper bodies were nearly touching, but fortunately for Chris, Zach’s lower half remained a safe distance away.  His hard-on throbbed painfully with each gust of Zach’s breath against his face and neck, but as soon as he could get his hand around the gun and pull it out, he knew Zach would leap back and continue the scene.  Chris wriggled his hand into his pocket, nearly groaning with relief as his fingers wrapped around the grip.

With a loud crack, the arm of the chair gave way, sending Zach sprawling atop Chris. 

&&&

The second Mr. Abrams confirmed that neither of them had sustained any major injuries, Chris ran.  He brushed right past Zoe and out the side exit of the auditorium.

“Zach, is he okay?” John asked.

“He’s…”  Zach struggled for a word that wasn’t _erect_.  “I think he’s just a little freaked out.”

“I should’ve stopped you earlier,” Mr. Abrams said, shaking his head.  “That was too much, Zach.  Even before the… chair.”

“I know,” Zach groaned, burying his face in his hands.  _He_ wanted to run, wanted some space to think without his friends all staring at him.

Mr. Abrams turned to Karl, who had been doing his math homework while he waited for one of his scenes.  “Will you go see if Chris is okay?”

“No, wait, let me,” Zach blurted, halfway across the stage already.

“Uh, Zach, are you sure _you_ should…”  Mr. Abrams trailed off.

“Yes.  Please, trust me on this.”

He suspected Chris hadn’t gotten far, and he was right.  Chris was just turning the corner around the back of the theatre building when Zach burst outside.  Zach considered calling out to him, but figured that would just make Chris run.

When Zach rounded the corner, he found Chris leaning against the building, his face pressed into his forearm.  “Chris,” Zach said softly.

“No.  No no, _fuck_ no.  Go away.”

“Please don’t freak out.”

“Go the fuck _away_.  I’m not going back in there.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Zach said with a tenderness that surprised even him.

“Look, I know there’s no way you didn’t feel…”  Chris pushed away from the wall but refused to look at Zach, rubbing his hands over his eyes instead.  “Can we please just pretend that never happened?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” Zach said, and that finally got Chris to look at him.  “It’s… it’s not that big a deal.  It’s not the first, um.  I know it didn’t mean anything.  It doesn’t bother me.”

That only made Chris stare at him more incredulously.  “It really doesn’t, does it?” he asked after a moment.

“I mean, not like I go rubbing up against other guys all the time, but, well, I think you know.”

“You’re so… not fucked up about it.”

Zach shrugged, trying not to squirm under Chris’ sharp stare.  “It’s just who I am.”

“Does… do they know?” Chris asked, gesturing at the theatre where all Zach’s friends were still gathered.

“Zoe and Karl are the only ones I’ve actually told.  But the others… I’m pretty sure they’ve guessed.”

“And your mom?”

Zach laughed bitterly.  “Oh hell no.  She keeps trying to set me up with Zoe.  She’d keel over dead if she found out.”

“You’re so lucky,” Chris mumbled, then seemed to realize what he’d said and started backpedaling.  “Not, uh, not for your mom.  That sucks.  But your friends, they don’t even care, and you’re… you seem cool with it.”

Zach ducked his head, fighting the stinging sensation in his throat.  “Most of the time.  Not, y’know, always.  There are times when I think… When I wish I were different.  Normal.”

“Me too,” Chris muttered softly into his hand, and Zach wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

“Hey, one random boner doesn’t mean you’re…”

“It’s not, uh.”  Chris slumped back against the wall.  “It’s not really an isolated incident.”

Zach’s jaw dropped.  “I— I mean, I know it’s not really any of my business, but I thought you said you weren’t—”

“I know,” Chris said, his eyes cast down at the ground.  “I don’t really know what I am.  Why do I keep telling you these things?  I still like girls.  But… not only girls, I guess.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, the corner of Zach’s mouth twitched up.  “That is an option, you know.  It doesn’t have to be an either/or thing.”

“I guess,” Chris said, looking deeply unsure.  “But that just seems… greedy.”

Zach couldn’t help it – he laughed.  “Sorry!  I’m sorry.  I don’t find this funny, I really don’t.  It’s just… you don’t have to decide today, you know?”

Chris suddenly seemed to remember where he was.  “Oh shit.  Is rehearsal still going on?”

“Probably.  As long as nobody’s missing a limb, the show goes on.”

“Great,” Chris groaned.

“Hey, look on the bright side.  Now you get to kill me and feed me to a carnivorous plant!”

“Well, there’s that.”  Chris brightened for a moment, then a thought seemed to occur to him.  “Do you, um, do you think anybody else noticed?  That I was, uh—”

“Packing more than a gun?” Zach supplied, and Chris rolled his eyes.  “No, I honestly don’t think so.”

Chris chewed at his bottom lip and Zach felt a wholly inappropriate blush threaten to spread up his neck.  “Can you do me a favor and just… not mention this to anyone?  Any of this?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Thanks.  And can you do me one more favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can you dial back the fucking David Lynch next time?  _Jesus_ , Zach.”

“Um, yeah,” Zach muttered, proud of himself for not mentioning just how much Little Chris had actually seemed to like it.  “May have gotten a little carried away there.  Wait a minute, you know David Lynch?”

“Not personally,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.  “But, yeah, my mom grounded me for two weeks when she caught me watching Mulholland Drive.”

“Was it worth it?”

“No.  Still have no fucking clue what that movie was about.  Other than lesbians.  I was pretty clear on the lesbians.”

&&&

As he unlocked the door, Chris took a deep breath and prayed to whomever was listening that he wouldn’t regret this.

“Mom?  Dad?  I’m home.  And, uh, Zach’s with me.”

He turned back to hold the door open for Zach, who was apparently waiting to be officially invited in.  And also seemed to be very consciously trying not to bounce up and down on his toes.  It wasn’t quite working.  “Come on in, Zach,” he sighed.

Zach raised his chin and strode inside confidently, in the profoundly awkward manner of somebody who was telling himself to act casual.  Chris saved his eye roll until he turned back to close the door behind them.

Chris’ mom was the first to arrive in the living room.  “Zach, hello!” she said warmly, and okay, he apparently already rated a one-armed hug on the Mom Scale.  “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Chris glared at her so hard his eyeballs nearly popped out of his head, but she just ignored him.  “Can I get you anything to drink, sweetie?” she asked Zach.

“Uhh, no, ma’am.  No thank you.  I’ve had, like, eight Cokes today, so I’ve been peeing all day, but I’m fine.”

Wow, _smooth_.  Zach had to be mentally facepalming over that one, but Chris just barely managed not to laugh. 

“How was rehearsal?” his mom asked, leading them to sit on the sofa.

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but Zach cut in first.  “Great!  Things are going really well.  Simon has pretty much finished building the Audrey II.  I mean, it’s nothing like it was for that first off-Broadway run.  Well, you know, the pictures I’ve seen.  Or the movie, of course.  Simon wanted something a little more sinister-looking.  Anyway, the framework’s all built, but we – Chris and I, I mean, and the other cast – have been working on the vocals.”

He glanced back at Chris, who gave a thumbs up.  “Yup.  Singing.”

“Chris has really amazing projection.  When he’s doing ‘Suddenly Seymour,’ I’m pretty sure you can hear him from the parking lot.  I’m totally jealous.  That’s one reason that I really want to work with a vocal coach at some point, because—”

At that point, Chris’ dad walked in and Zach apparently couldn’t be bothered to finish his sentence.  “I’m guessing you’re Zach?” his dad said, fortunately only extending a hand.

Which Zach shook with reckless abandon.  “That’s me.  It’s so great to meet you!  Both of you!  Did I already say that?”

“Nope,” Chris said, but nobody spared him a glance.

“We hear you’re quite the actor,” his dad said, settling in on the loveseat.

For a few seconds, Chris was genuinely worried that Zach might explode.  His face turned a dire shade of pink, but all that came out were words.  So, so many words.  “I don’t know about that.  I mean, I’m trying to be.  I’ve been doing theatre forever, but I’ve only really started to get into acting theory this year.  And there’s just so _much_.  I started with Stanislavsky, ‘cause that’s where naturalism in acting came from, right?  But then I started getting into Meisner, which is supposed to be kind of an extension of the system, but I _really_ don’t get where all that repetition business fits in.  Because then it’s like, what about the script?  I mean, I have to actually _say the lines_ at some point.  So I was just wondering what your process is like, how you get started.  I mean, is it possible to overprepare?”

If Zach noticed Chris’ dad’s eyebrows climbing higher and higher, he certainly didn’t give any indication of it.  When he finally finished speaking, Chris’ dad shifted a little on the loveseat, clearing his throat.  “Well, uh, I think there were several questions in there.”  Zach nodded eagerly.  “But you asked about my process.  I do think it’s possible to overprepare.  The problem I find with some of these theories in their purest forms is that they become pretty solipsistic.  Do you know what I mean by—?”

“Self-absorbed, right?” Zach said eagerly.

“Exactly.  I think you’ve got to be careful of subscribing purely to one theory at the expense of all the others.  You’ve got the benefit of being young, so you haven’t been indoctrinated – I know that’s a pretty strong word, but just bear with me here – into a single school of thought.  It can actually isolate you from the people you work with.  Now when I was starting out…”

Really, Chris had no idea why he’d been thinking this would be a total disaster.  His dad loved to talk, and in Zach he had found his perfect audience.  Zach was leaning so far forward on the couch he was a mere inch from falling off, and his dad had already started to talk with his hands.  Obviously, Chris wasn’t needed.  “Okay, I’m gonna go get a…”  No one spared a glance when he stood.  “A life,” he muttered, heading for the kitchen.

He’d just finished pouring himself some orange juice when his mom came in.  “Well, Zach’s certainly passionate,” she said with a smile.

Chris groaned.  “Shouldn’t you be out there helping him hone his craft?”

“Oh, he doesn’t want to hear from a psychologist who’s been out of showbiz for twenty years.  Plus, between you and me, your father can talk enough for the both of us.”

“We’re going to be here all night, aren’t we?”

“Well, your dad’s eventually going to need food, and I’ll make sure he stops talking long enough to chew.”  She peeked her head around into the living room, then back to Chris.  “I think this is really good for him.  Lord knows he loves a captive audience.  I’m glad you brought Zach by.”

“I don’t think I could’ve stopped him,” Chris said into his juice, though it wasn’t strictly true.  He’d had to reassure Zach several times over that he really was welcome at the Pine household and allowed to ask questions, within reason.  Chris scraped at a spot on the countertop.  “I’m sorry I’m not like that.”

“Like what?” his mom asked.  “Like Zach?”

“Yeah.  All crazy about acting and stuff.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, throwing an arm around him and standing on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the temple.  Chris had to bend down a little; he’d been a head taller than her since the eighth grade.  “We just hope you find something, anything you care that much about.  If your dad and I and your grandmother were all plumbers, we’d probably be giving you a little nudge in the ribs whenever we saw a plunger.  But we just want you to do something you love.”

“And something that actually pays,” Chris muttered.

“That would be helpful, yes.”  She paused, picking up the bottle of orange juice where Chris had left it and putting it back into the fridge.  “Oh, and I can see why you like Zach so much.”

“ _Whuh_?” Chris gurgled through a mouthful of juice, nearly dropping his glass.

“Why you two have become such fast friends.  I don’t know anyone else whose kids would know what the word ‘solipsistic’ means.  Nor many adults, either.”

“Hnnn,” said Chris, reaching for a tissue to clear the pulp from his sinuses.

&&&

“Make sure you rest your voice as much as possible,” Mr. Abrams said as Chris shouldered his backpack.  “Just a week to go, and you don’t want to put any unnecessary strain on your vocal chords.”

“Don’t worry, I quit the cheerleading team, too,” Chris said with a grin, glad that the director was a teacher he could joke around with.

“Excellent.  And none of that caramel mocha latte nonsense.  Tea and honey only.”

Chris clicked his heels and saluted Mr. Abrams, leaving rehearsal with a smile once again.  It had gone a little later tonight, since they’d wanted to get all the way through Act Two, and Chris still had to walk to his car in the outer lot.

He’d nearly made it through the breezeway when he heard familiar laughter up ahead.  _Shit_.  Somehow he’d managed to avoid running into any former teammates, which had been nothing short of a miracle.  In fact, Eric was the only one who had sought him out, so maybe it wasn’t just a happy accident.  Chris had quit midseason, after all, which didn’t earn him a whole lot of respect.

But now there was no avoiding them.  There were three of them.  Cliff, the starting catcher, was shorter than Chris, but stockier.  _Built like a brick shithouse_ , he’d once heard an opposing player say.  He certainly wasn’t what anybody wanted to see when they were trying to steal home base, and he was now blocking Chris’ path through the breezeway.  Needless to say, they’d never been buddies.  Two of his friends were leaned casually against the lockers, eyeing Chris as he walked up.

“Pine,” Cliff said.  “Where you been?”

Chris just barely held back on the _why don’t you ask your mom_ joke, instead merely saying, “Around.”

“Uh-huh,” Cliff said slowly, which was how he did most everything.  “Got too good for your teammates, did you?”

Chris actually laughed; it was like the other guy was reading from a script, a Very Special Episode on bullying.  He wasn’t really worried that Cliff would take a swing at him, but figured he had about three minutes before the word “faggot” came up.  Maybe less, since Cliff didn’t seem terribly pleased about the laugh.

“You’ve gotten along fine without me.  Eric says you guys beat the shit out of Edgewood last week.”

“Yeah, and you shoulda been with us.  You’re on the drama team now?”

 _Drama team?_   Jesus, how had Chris put up with this kind of shit for two years?  “Yup, drama team.  We’re going to the thespian semi-finals soon.”

Predictably, one of the other guys – Eli, right field – sniggered at “thespian,” but it was Cliff who continued to speak.  “Having fun with those drama queers?  I hear they suck cock better than the dance team.”

Ah, so it was going to start with “queers.”  Chris suddenly felt very tired.  He’d been wary of this moment for two months, preparing all the things he wanted to say, all the deeply philosophical jabs that would have these guys questioning their motives, or would at least stun them into silence.  But now that the moment was finally here, he just wanted it over with.  Maybe it made him a coward, but Chris just didn’t want to deal with it.  “Fuck off, Clifton,” he said without malice.

“Don’t tell me to fuck off,” he sneered, getting up into Chris’ space.

“HEY!”  A shout echoed from down the hall behind Chris.  He turned to look, and _sweet baby Jesus_ , it was Zach.  Six feet of angry, predatory Zach, channeling Orin Scrivello but much less menacing now that Chris was standing under the flickering fluorescent lights of the breezeway.  _Zach_ , Chris thought at him as hard as he could, _please don’t say anything stupid_.

“Hey,” he said again, slightly out of breath.  “You wanna mess with someone, shithead?  How ‘bout you come over here and mess with a _real_ fag.”

Well, so much for telepathy.

Cliff took one look at Zach and burst out laughing.  “Seriously?  Pine, is he serious?”

“About you being a shithead?  Probably.”

Luckily, Cliff seemed to think it was some sort of joke.  He was an idiot, but as far as Chris knew, not a violent idiot.  Still, though.  This wasn’t going to end well, and Chris’ heart shot into his throat.

“Awww,” Cliff said, “I get to meet your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s not my type,” Zach drawled, forcing Chris to close his eyes in pain.  “I like ‘em… brawnier.  So, big boy, do you pitch or catch?”

Zach was obviously the luckiest motherfucker this side of Leprechaun Land, because the two goons snorted with laughter and Cliff went so red that Chris was sure he’d burst something.  But instead he just huffed out an obviously strained laugh.  “Fucking moron.  You’re just lucky I don’t fuck up retards,” Cliff muttered, turned around, and stomped off with his buddies in tow.

For a long moment, Chris just stood there watching them leave, hearing nothing but his and Zach’s adrenaline-labored breathing.  When he was sure his former teammates were gone, he whirled on Zach, staring him right in the eyes before making a beeline to the men’s bathroom a few steps down the hall.

Zach followed, his face such a perfect, eager picture of _I did good, right?_ that Chris was almost ashamed to yell at him.  Almost.  “Zach.  What.  The.   _Fuck_?”

“Huh?”

He looked so clueless that Chris actually started to get angry, grabbing the front of Zach’s shirt and hauling him forward.  “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

“Backing you up?” Zach said, his voice rising along with his eyebrows.

“How exactly was that going to work?”

Zach swallowed visibly, his enthusiasm rapidly fading into sheepishness.  “There were three of them.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris gritted out slowly.  “And how many are there of you and me?”

“C’mon, the two of us stood a better chance than just you.”

“If shit were to go down – and it would not have, even if you hadn’t leapt in.  _If_ shit were to go down, how exactly would you be an asset to me?”

“I… I took stage combat at theatre camp,” Zach said, then winced hard.  “Oh god, that sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.”

The adrenaline had ebbed, and Chris slowly unclenched his fists from Zach’s shirt.  Zach looked absolutely pitiful now, and Chris couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible, even if Zach was still kind of an idiot.  “You, uh…” Chris started.  “You like ‘em brawny?”

Zach snorted softly.  “I was going to go with ‘beefy,’ but that sounded too gay, even for me.  It’s not like I actually have a ‘type’ or anything.”

“And the pitching and catching thing?”

Zach went suddenly pale.  “Look, I don’t really want to—”

“Zach, he’s the catcher.”

“What?”

“For the team.  Every game he squats behind home plate and catches the ball.”

“He… Oh.  _Oh_ my god.”  Zach froze, and Chris was certain he was about to either burst into tears or hysterical laughter.  He surprised Chris entirely by starting to hyperventilate.  “Oh fuck, what did I do?  Shit, fuck, fucking… He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?  He’s going to wait for me in the parking lot and he and Curly and Moe are going to beat me until my own mother won’t recognize me.  And that’s if I’m _lucky_.  Otherwise one of them’s going to grab me by the hair and tell me I’ve got a _purty mouth_ and—”

“Zach, _stop_ ,” Chris yelped, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him steady.  “Stop.  Look, Cliff is an asshole, but I’ve never known him to get violent.  Plus he’s got a scholarship.  Fighting will get him expelled, which means no more baseball, which means his father actually might kill him.”

Zach whimpered, obviously unconvinced.  He looked like he could be blown over by a strong wind, and Chris fought the urge to wrap his arms around him.  “Besides,” Chris chuckled, “if he goes after you, by extension he goes after me, and that means he’s up against Eric.  Nobody goes up against Eric.  He’s Australian.”  Zach looked adorably confused and Chris laughed again.  “Baseball is a complex social structure.  It’s like Jane Austen on steroids.”

“So,” Zach began, seeming to have calmed a little as he processed this.  “Nobody fucks with you if you’re Australian?”

“Well, it kind of helps that he’s twelve feet tall and can bench press more than you weigh.”

Zach sagged until Chris was pretty sure his hands were the only thing holding him up.  “Chris, I’m so sorry about this.  I thought I was…  Fuck it all, I thought I was helping.”

“Hey, don’t.  It’s okay.”  Chris rubbed Zach’s upper arms firmly.  “It was… kind of sweet, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  You were actually expecting to throw down.  Honest to god, apart from my family, I don’t think there’s a single other person I know who would’ve done that for me.”

“What about Eric?”

“Eric wouldn’t face down three guys that were stronger than him, threaten them, and then fucking _flirt_ with them.  Seriously, man, what are your balls made of?  Galvanized steel?”

By now Zach was actively repressing a smile, his cheeks flushed in the most appealing way.  His skin was a little shiny with sweat, his chest still rising visibly with each inhale.  He looked like he’d just been—

 _Fuck it._

Chris took a deep breath, leaned in, and kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was surprisingly easy, maybe because Zach had let himself imagine it.  Only once, but in great detail – the way Chris would shyly take his hand, stroke his cheek, and then press his lips gently to Zach’s.

Except Chris wasn’t doing anything shyly or gently.  He was still holding Zach firmly by the shoulders, hardly allowing Zach any movement at all as their mouths meshed together.  It took Zach three full beats to catch up, then another to lick back against Chris’ lips as he planted his feet firmly and pushed back into the kiss.

Chris pulled back gasping, his mouth red and wet, but before he could dive in again, Zach planted a hand against his chest.  “Look, Chris, if you’re just doing this to, like, _thank_ me or something…”

Chris utterly shocked him by throwing back his head and laughing.  “To thank you?  You think I—   For _that_?  Fuck, Zach, you’re insane.  How did I not know this before?”

“Hey,” Zach said, feeling like he should be offended but not quite able to pull away from the heat he could still feel coming off Chris in waves.

“Zach, you’re crazy and you’re crazy _hot_ and for some reason I am so fucking turned on right now.”

Chris may have had more to say, but Zach didn’t let him get it out, just launched himself back at Chris, who only stumbled a little.  Walking backward, Chris managed to tug them both into the handicapped stall in the back, which could really only mean one thing…

“Here?” Zach gasped.

“You got a better place?” Chris asked with a grin, nipping just a little too hard at Zach’s lower lip.

The school had been mostly empty and Zach was pretty sure the janitorial staff didn’t show up for a few hours, but the thrill of getting caught was still enough to send a jolt of arousal through him.  He surged forward against Chris, feeling the impressive hardness in Chris’ jeans press against his hip.  “Chris,” Zach groaned, mouthing aimlessly at his jaw and neck.  “What do you—?”

“Just fucking _touch_ me” came the impatient reply as Chris clawed at his shoulders.

Feeling bold, Zach dropped his hand from Chris’ hip, placing it squarely over the bulge in his jeans.  Zach grimaced in sympathy; Chris was so hard it had to hurt.  But he didn’t appear to be in any pain now, not as he rocked his hips spastically against Zach’s hand, and Zach squeezed him through the thick fabric, feeling out the shape of him, working the length of his cock from root to tip and back again.

Chris moaned loud and long, and Zach had the passing thought that they could probably be heard out in the hallway, but the sound was so fucking sexy that he couldn’t bear to stop.  That didn’t even take into account Chris’ face, gorgeous even when contorted with pleasure.  Zach rubbed his thumb rhythmically over the head of Chris’ cock, trapped so tightly in his jeans, and Chris’ whole body trembled with it.  He was moaning steadily now, burying his face against Zach’s neck and that just spurred Zach on more, because now he could _feel_ every gasp, every curse.

Until Chris jerked his head up.  “Zach, wait, stop, I’m gonna— Oh, _oh_!”  His voice shot up an octave as his whole body went rigid, his pelvis grinding against Zach’s hand.  One tight little thrust of his hips, then two, then three, and Chris went still.  Zach couldn’t feel the wetness seeping through the material yet, but it was obvious Chris had just come – and from the look on his face, was absolutely mortified by it.

His cheeks flushed beet red.  “I’m sorry, I—  Shit.”  Chris tried to pull away, but Zach refused to let him go, just held on to him and mashed his lips messily against Chris’ until Chris started kissing back, slowly relaxing under Zach’s hands.

“It’s okay,” Zach murmured against Chris’ lips.  “It was… really hot, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Totally.  Uh, sorry about your pants, though.”

“Ugh,” Chris groaned, glancing down.  “Might have some old basketball shorts in the car.  But first, uh…”  He looked at Zach with wide, vulnerable eyes… and began to sink to his knees.  “Gotta make it up to you.”

Zach’s mouth fell open, too shocked even to curse.  He’d fantasized about this, sure, but he would never have considered bringing it up to Chris.  And, though he certainly wasn’t about to tell Chris, Zach’s entire sexual experience thus far had consisted of three glorious weeks at drama camp last summer, where he and a gorgeous guy named Matt had traded kisses and furtive hand jobs after lights out.  But he’d never… And Chris was… Zach couldn’t even _think_.

“I don’t, um,” Chris muttered, his fingers fumbling with Zach’s belt.  “I’ve never done this to someone else.  And I’ve only had it done to me once.  So just, like, tell me if I’m doing anything wrong?  Because I don’t want to hurt you, or—”

“ _Chris_ ,” Zach said, batting away Chris’ hands and undoing his jeans himself.  “You’ve barely even touched me and I’m about to fucking explode.  Anything you do is gonna be fine as long as you _do_ it.”

Chris nodded eagerly as Zach drew himself out of his underwear, feeling wholly exposed.  He and Matt had never really taken the time to look at each other like this, though it certainly didn’t cool Zach’s arousal any when Chris fixed his cock with a determined look and licked his lips.

The first touch of Chris’ tongue to the tip nearly made his knees buckle.  Chris’ hands flew up to steady himself against Zach’s hips, and Zach was secretly glad for the extra support.  He swayed into Chris’ hold, barely able to keep from thrusting into Chris’ wet, waiting mouth.  Luckily, Chris didn’t make him wait long, just took a deep breath and fit his mouth around the head of Zach’s cock, sucking it like a lollipop.  The noise Zach made was somewhere between a whimper and a whine.  And when Chris began to lick, curiously poking his tongue into the slit, Zach made a sound he wouldn’t have even thought humans were capable of.

How long he managed to hold off, Zach didn’t know, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before Chris figured out he could suck and use his tongue at the same time, and then Zach was _gone_.  It was so much better than his own hand in the shower, better even than all his nights with Matt, because even though Chris was sort of wincing, he didn’t pull away, just held Zach’s cock tight in the wet heat of his mouth until it stopped pulsing and Zach’s knees turned to water.

The air felt cold on his wet, softening dick as it slipped from Chris’ mouth, but Zach had to focus all his energy on staying upright, his body was still so shaky with bliss.  He had to put his hands on Chris’ shoulders for balance, swaying with him as Chris yanked a handful of toilet paper off the roll and spat into it.

Zach grimaced.  He’d tasted his own spunk once, out of curiosity, and he still wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with a whole mouthful of that.  “Okay?”

“Tastes kinda gross,” Chris said, tossing the crumpled tissue into the toilet.  And then he grinned.  “But worth it.  Did you know your eyes crossed just then?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yup.  Like this.”  And then he pulled an imitation of Zach’s O-face, complete with tongue half-hanging out of his mouth.

Zach went red, but he couldn’t honestly say that he hadn’t looked like that.  He really, really hadn’t been thinking about what his face was doing at the time.  What Chris’ face had done, on the other hand…  “Oh yeah?  Well you looked like _this_.”  Zach rolled his eyes back in his head and let his eyelashes flutter and his lips quiver exaggeratedly.

Chris laughed loudly, struggling up to his feet as Zach tucked himself away.  “Hey, any time you’d like to help me make that face, I am perfectly okay with that.”

Chuckling, Zach tugged Chris closer until he hesitated.  “Do you, I mean,” Chris mumbled.  “You don’t have to kiss me.  Not after—”

Zach kissed him anyway, the taste of himself in Chris’ mouth barely giving him pause.  It was kind of hot, actually.  He let a hand slip down to fit around Chris’ ass and groaned a little at how round and firm it felt.  Zach had never been one to notice asses, but he was pretty sure this one could change his mind.

Eventually, Chris pulled away, wiping the back of his hand over his wet, swollen lips and then glancing at his watch.  “Shit,” he muttered.  “I need to get going, I—”  He took two steps toward the door and grimaced, groaning and readjusting himself in his pants.  “I really fucking hope I have those extra shorts.”

&&&

Chris felt like he should be freaking out.  Why wasn’t he freaking out?  Not only had he swapped fluids with Zach Quinto; he’d been the one to initiate it, not five minutes after his former teammate had taunted him about it.  Shouldn’t he be having some sort of identity crisis, or big gay meltdown, or something?

Instead, Chris felt happier than he had in weeks, actually light in his loafers.  Did anybody even say that anymore, or had he just picked it up from his slightly inappropriate grandmother?

Besides, he didn’t have the time to freak out.  As opening night got closer, Mr. Abrams dropped a bit of the cool-guy persona and kept rehearsals incredibly focused.  Chris was glad for that – if they’d all been allowed to joke around together, who knows what he would’ve let slip.

As it was, he would catch Zach’s eye and get a quick, knowing grin in return.  He would see Zach coming up the stairs, see the confident set of his shoulders and remember back to the face he’d made when Chris had sucked him dry, and think _Yeah, I hit that_.  It was like a secret they shared.  The only problem was he had no one to tell.

He came very, very close to telling Beau.  She sat next to him at lunch one day and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have the urge to flee.  He just asked her how the studying was coming along.

“You look good, Chris,” she said.  It sounded like something the long-suffering twenty-something girl in a romantic comedy said to her heartbroken ex-boyfriend, and Chris almost laughed.  But he _felt_ good.  He had to bite his lip to keep from telling her why, just to see the expression on her face.

Even though he and Zach hadn’t touched each other since that night, Chris beat off almost religiously to the thought of Zach’s hand tight around his cock, the idea that Zach might get down on his knees, smile in that wicked way of his, and…  That was usually as far as he made it before he was groaning into his pillow and coming in hot spurts all over his hand.

The only part that was awkward was That Scene, as he’d started to call it in his head.  They’d been visibly shyer around each other on stage, but Mr. Abrams seemed to assume it stemmed from the debacle with the old dentist’s chair (which Simon had dragged to metal shop and now swore up and down would support the weight of a dancing elephant).  They’d reblocked the scene to make it less physical, though now Zach’s line “The things I’m gonna do to that mouth” was quickly becoming the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard, and he had to dig his short fingernails into his palm to keep from laughing.

Tech rehearsals flew by, and dress rehearsal did much the same.  By that point, only a fraction of his brain was free to think about whatever this thing with Zach was, because most of it was occupied with the desperate desire not to fuck up while on stage.  For some reason, he kept messing up his lines with Audrey II, thrown by having to speak to a large, fake plant while Karl’s voice came booming out of the speaker behind it.  All Chris could picture was Simon curled up inside the enormous papier-mâché flowerpot with the trapdoor in the back, working the plant’s wide “jaw” with one arm and wiggling various roots and tendrils with the other.

All he got from Zach was a quick, sloppy makeout after dress rehearsal in the small pocket of space beside the stage after everyone else had left.

“I have to be getting home soon,” Zach sighed against his lips, but he didn’t make a move to push away from the wall that Chris was pressing him into.

Chris groaned, nuzzling Zach’s cheek.  “Just a little while longer?”  He hated the pleading tone in his voice, and pressed his mouth to Zach’s neck to suck and nip.

Zach laughed a little, and Chris could feel it rumble up through his chest.  “Wow, when you go for something, you really _go_ for it.  That’s totally hot.”  Chris shivered at the words, accidentally biting down a little too hard, and Zach yanked his head up.  “Hey.  We said no hickeys.”

“Sorry,” Chris murmured, trying very hard to regret it, but Zach just grinned.

“Not until after the show,” he said, kissing at the corners of Chris’ mouth.  “Then you can mark me up all you want.”

Groaning again, Chris pressed Zach harder into the wall, their bodies flush together from shoulders to knees.  He ground his crotch lightly against Zach’s hip, sighing at the shock of heat that suffused his body, wanting more but remembering all too well that he hadn’t replaced that extra pair of shorts in his car.  Plus, they really didn’t have much time.  His mom would be wondering where he was and calling him at any moment.  But with Zach curling his fingers around Chris’ hips and sucking at his bottom lip, he was able to forget all of that.

It was Zach’s phone that rang first, though.  Chris pulled away reluctantly, unable to tear his eyes from Zach’s reddened, swollen lips even as Zach reassured his mom that yes, everything was fine and yes, he would be home soon.

“Gotta go,” Zach sighed, tugging Chris close for one last kiss.  Or rather, one last lewd, wet lick into Chris’ mouth that left him gasping.

&&&

“Red leather, yellow leather.  Red leather, yellow leather.  Red leather, yellow leather,” Zach chanted hypnotically as he paced the hallway beside the auditorium.

The first of his many roles in the show, apart from some narration on a handheld mike behind the curtain, was that of a hobo in the song “Skid Row,” so he did his usual vocal exercises in a crumpled old flannel shirt and an oversized pair of grimy khaki pants.  The pants were from a brief period in middle school when he’d worn all of his clothes three sizes too big, though they were still short enough that his ankles stuck out.  The shirt, fittingly enough, belonged to Chris.

Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen Chris since they all split to get dressed.  They didn’t have a dressing room, which meant they separated by gender to change into their costumes, then reconvened in the ladies’ room to do makeup, since it had a separate section with a large full-length mirror.  Zach had gotten stubble and grime sponged onto his face, but Chris still hadn’t made it to their improvised makeup studio.

Zach found him back in the men’s room, clutching the sides of the sink like it was the only thing keeping him vertical.  Realizing there was no one in there with them, Zach set a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him… but got shoved rudely away.

He stumbled back, shocked and hurt until Chris looked up at him and shook his head pathetically.  “I puked,” he muttered, his face as pale as Zach had ever seen it.  “I might not be finished.  With the puking.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Zach said, fighting hard not to laugh.  Chris really didn’t need that right now, but he looked so utterly wretched that Zach sort of wanted to rub his head and scratch behind his ears.  “Get it all out now.”

“I was fine in dress rehearsal,” Chris groaned.  “What’s wrong with me?”

Zach hazarded a commiserating hand on Chris’ upper arm.  “It’s really common.”

“Do you ever get stage fright?”

“Well, uh.  No.”  Chris glared at him.  “Maybe when I was little?  I don’t remember.  But if you told me to, like, go stand at third base while you hit balls at me, I’d be terrified, too.”

Chris’ pitiable expression suddenly broke into a giggle.  “You said ‘balls.’”

Zach rolled his eyes.  “Feeling better now?”

“Well, I’m thinking about your balls now, so…” Chris scratched his chin thoughtfully.  “Yes.”

“Excellent.  My nuts cure stage fright.  Good to know.”  He leaned in again to kiss Chris on the cheek, then changed his mind at the last second and licked him instead from jaw to temple.  “Finish puking and go get your makeup put on.  You don’t want to go out there looking like _that_.”

Grimacing, Chris wiped at his face with his sleeve and flipped Zach off in the mirror.  “I swear, you say the sweetest shit to me.”

&&&

Despite not having any visible pockets, Simon had managed to produce a tin of Altoids from somewhere, so at least Chris’ mouth no longer tasted like something had died in it.  His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, though.  It was awful.  He tried to remember back to his first baseball game on the varsity team – he must have been nervous the first time he went to bat, but he couldn’t remember anything like this.

Karl, Rachel, and Jennifer had already told Chris to break a leg.  Anton nearly wished him good luck, but Karl managed to clamp a hand over his mouth just in time.  He seemed to be seriously considering making the poor kid run around the theatre three times and ask for permission to come back in (“To defunk the bad hoojoo” explained John), but Mr. Abrams insisted they didn’t have time and shepherded Anton off to the lighting and sound “booth.”

The audience was filling up – Chris caught bits of crowd noise whenever the door to the stage swung open.  “How many people, you think?” Chris asked as Simon came back out from fiddling with something on stage.

“’Bout three-quarters full, I think,” Simon said with a grin, and Chris felt the color drain from his face.

John threw an avuncular arm around his shoulders and said, “Some people will tell you to picture the audience in their underwear.  I never really got that.  What helps me is picturing _Zoe_ in her underwear.”

Unfortunately for John, Zoe was not only right behind them, but she had already changed into her pointy-toed shoes, and quickly kicked him in the back of his knee so that his whole right leg went dead.  His arm slipped off of Chris’ shoulder and he slumped to the floor.

Well, at least John hadn’t said anything about picturing Zach in his underwear.  That would just be… Oh fuck, now Chris was doing it.

“Hey.”  A hand clamped down warm and firm on his shoulder.  Zach.  “You know what to do.  Just go out there and kill it.”

Chris risked a shaky smile.  “And by _it_ you mean _you_ , right?”

Zach grinned.  “Eventually, yes.  Try to wait until the end of Act One, though.”

“No promises,” Chris said, his heartbeat returning to some approximation of normal.

He saw Zach glance around quickly – everyone seemed distracted either by their pre-show jitters or by each other.  For just a moment, Chris felt a hand squeeze tightly around his.  Then it was gone, but Zach was still smiling faintly at him.  Chris felt like he should say something, but before he could, Mr. Abrams was coming back in, telling them to get to their places.

This was it.

Chris looked down at John, who was still on the floor and making soft whimpering noises.  “Need any help, man?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Zoe said, hooking her arm in Chris’ and pulling him through the door.

&&&

Zach would’ve loved to see how often he could grab Chris’ ass between scenes without anyone noticing, but Chris was onstage for essentially the entire length of the play.  He really had to give Chris credit – Zach wasn’t sure he’d been in anything that required this much stage time.

The audience was really responding to Chris, and it was easy to see Chris gaining confidence from their attention.  Zach changed into his business suit for his next quick role just in time to see Chris sing “Grow For Me,” his love song to the still-tiny plant.  He milked the moment Seymour first feeds Audrey II his blood for all it was worth, wrinkling his face in agony as he mimed squeezing a drop of blood out of his finger.  On the last strain of “Won’t you please… grow for me?” the audience burst into applause.

The scenes flew by and before Zach knew it, he was onstage in his leather jacket, wielding a shiny dental pick and backing Chris into the chair.  All the giggles they’d had in rehearsal drained away, replaced by the audience’s gasps as Chris shoved Zach off of him and pointed the gun with a shaky hand.  But Zach’s can of laughing gas killed him before Seymour could get the chance, so with an exaggerated glance around the stage for witnesses, Chris hooked his hands under Zach’s armpits and dragged his lifeless body offstage, ending Act One.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Chris gasped, still breathing a little hard from dragging Zach across the stage.  His cheeks were flushed but he was grinning like a madman, finally able to celebrate his first taste of performing for an audience.

“I know, right?” Zach said.  “We’ll make an applause junkie out of you yet.”

Chris tugged him to his feet, and Zach almost, _almost_ leaned in for a kiss, but then his other castmates were surrounding them, doling out high-fives and fist bumps and babbling about the fact that John had nearly dropped the tiny Audrey II, just barely managing to catch it before it fell.

“You guys are acting like I was juggling the goddamn thing,” John hissed.  “It was _not_ that bad.”

“It wasn’t.  I was right next to him and it really wasn’t,” Chris chimed in, clapping John on the shoulder.

John shot him a look of profound thanks, and Zach had to zip backstage before he made a fool of himself and really did kiss Chris in front of his friends.

&&&

Chris didn’t have to fake the emotion – he was literally about to cry when Zoe died in his arms, begging him to feed her to the plant.  The lights went to black, since they didn’t have a budget that allowed them to build an actual man-eating plant.  How Karl and Simon had done what they’d done with the money they’d had sort of baffled Chris anyway, but he was quickly learning that with Simon, it was better just not to ask.

Chris quickly darted offstage after Zoe, nearly running into Zach.  It was their final scene together, and the beginning of Chris’ final scene, period.  Chris barely had a moment to catch his breath before the lights went back up, but the light pinch on his butt made him smile, ready to take on the scene.

His own death wasn’t nearly as poignant and drawn out as Zoe’s had been.  As he charged the Audrey II with a fake machete, Simon brought the plant’s head down on him and the lights faded to black again.  All he had to do was sing the finale with the others who had been eaten by the plant.  He quickly rumpled his costume and smeared some stage blood on his face and hands, doing the same for Zach when he returned wearing his Orin costume again.

They lined up with John and Zoe, went onstage, and exhorted the audience not to feed the plants, the cuttings of the Audrey II that had been sold around the world.  As the song came to a close, Karl started up his maniacal laughter over the speakers, Simon shook the plant’s roots for all he was worth, and at the back of the theatre, Anton tugged the string that would make green crepe-paper “vines” fall from the ceiling on to the audience.

Even though Chris had thought the whole thing seemed a bit tacky in rehearsal, he could hear the audience shrieking in some combination of glee and terror as the curtain closed.  There were some thudding sounds and soft swearing as Simon climbed out of the plant machinery to join the other for the curtain call.

When the curtain opened again, Chris nearly tripped over his own feet on the way back out.  They all lined up and bowed together on Zach’s cue.  The three chorus girls stepped forward and took their bow, followed by Zach and John, who got a few playful boos.  Zach mugged it up, tugging at the lapels of his leather jacket and shooting a perfect “fuck you” look at the audience – they cheered and booed even harder.

Then Chris took Zoe’s hand and stepped forward and people started standing up.  Chris wasn’t sure where his family was, exactly, but they weren’t the ones to start the standing ovation.  Zoe had to raise Chris’ hand for him and squeeze it to remind him to bow, which he did a little too hastily before stepping back to join the line.  Karl and Simon took their bows last – well, Karl bowed and Simon gave a delicate little curtsy.  When the whole cast bowed again and the audience remained on their feet, whooping and hollering.  Chris thought he heard Eric’s voice from somewhere on the left and made a mental note to smack him later for being so loud.

By the time the curtain closed for the second time, Chris felt high as a kite.  He didn’t walk off the stage – he practically bounced.  Backstage, everyone was giving each other congratulatory hugs, so he didn’t feel the least bit ashamed of throwing his arms around Zach.  The little kiss he snuck against his neck when no one was looking, though, that he felt a little silly for.

&&&

Zach had to let Chris go pretty quickly, unfortunately, lest people get suspicious.  Besides, they had costumes to change out of and adoring fans to attend to.

Chris must have changed and made his way back out into the auditorium first, because Zach spied him talking to a couple of big, burly guys.  His former teammates, had to be.  Zach quickly tamped down the twisting he felt in his gut and pushed through the crowd to find his mom.

When he found her, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed both his cheeks loudly.  “Mo-oooom,” he whined, but blushed hard at the adoring smile on her face.

“Amazing, Zachary, as always.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Now you can start studying for your tests earlier than the night before,” she said, not unkindly, but Zach felt a burning in his throat.  Did that really have to be the second thing she said to him after a show he’d worked all semester on?

Suddenly, Zach felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see Chris’ parents standing behind them.  He greeted them politely and turned back toward his mom.  “Mom, this is Mr. and Mrs. Pine.”

When Zach had told her who Chris’ dad was, she’d gone on and on about how handsome he was on TV.  Ever since, Zach had been dreading this moment, certain his mom was going to embarrass the hell out of him, but she just said, “Nice to meet you both” and shook their hands politely.  Though possibly, in Mr. Pine’s case, just a little bit too long.

“You must be very proud of Zach,” Mrs. Pine said with a warm smile.

“Oh, yes,” Zach’s mom replied.  “I just don’t know how he does it, memorizing all those lines.”

“He’s really very talented,” Mr. Pine said.  “I could see him having a future in the business, if that’s what he wanted.”

Zach’s mom’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh?”

“I’ve gotten to talk with him a little bit and he takes it seriously, puts an incredible amount of work into it.  It’s just hard to tell because he makes it look so effortless.”

Zach stared intently at his shoes, trying to keep his face from bursting into flames.

His mom said, “I know he’s talented, I do.  If it were up to me, he’d be a movie star tomorrow.  But it seems like such a hard business to get into, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Geez, did his mom even still remember he was there?  But Mrs. Pine spoke up quickly.  “It can certainly be difficult.  But for someone willing to work hard, with the right connections…”

Zach’s mom looked like she had something to say to that, but Zach couldn’t take any more.  “Uh, Mom, I think Mr. Abrams wanted us backstage… for a thing… he was going to talk to us.”

“Okay, go on,” his mom said, not letting him go until she’d planted another kiss on his cheek, then continuing her conversation with the Pines.  Zach slipped through the crowd as fast as he could without being overtly rude to the friends and parents who wanted to congratulate him.

When he got backstage, Chris was standing flat up against the wall as if trying to make himself invisible.  “I’m not going back out there, man.  I was just talking to Eric and some old lady kissed me.  _On the mouth_.  I don’t even know who she was!  I feel sort of violated.”

Zach just laughed.  “Get used to it.  If you keep this up, women of all ages will be throwing themselves at you.”  That actually seemed to frighten Chris, his eyes going even wider, and Zach laughed even harder.  “You… you have no idea, do you?”

“What?” Chris said, looking genuinely confused.  Two months ago, Zach would’ve wanted to punch him in the throat for it, but now it was just sort of endearing.

“You’re a fucking _star_ , you idiot.  You’re stupidly good at this,” Zach said without a hint of jealousy, for once.  “Though I have to say, I’m pretty happy that the thought of women sexually assaulting you doesn’t turn you on.”

“I’m not afraid of women, Zach.”

“Course not,” Zach said.  He figured Chris wasn’t lying when he said he still liked girls, too, but that was no reason not to give him shit about it at every possible opportunity.

Their conversation lulled and Zach could hear the commotion still going on in the auditorium.  The rest of their castmates were probably out there by now, and soon the cameras would come out and the moms would start demanding group pictures.  He and Chris should really get back out there.  But maybe not yet.  Not just yet.

The backstage hallway was deserted.  Chris leaned toward Zach with unmistakable intent.  “You looked so fucking hot in that leather jacket.  Can we…  I mean, not here, but maybe in the bathroom…?”

Zach would’ve made a joke about Chris’ erotic predilection for bathrooms, but his eyes were so wide and blue and inviting that laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.  He felt himself growing hard at just the thought of having some time alone with Chris, but…  “We’d better not.  The cast party and everything.”

Chris’ sad puppy eyes _did_ make Zach laugh, though – he was too adorable to be real.  In the end, Zach couldn’t help indulging him a little.  “Alright,” Zach sighed, as though it were some kind of burden to him.  “Just a ki—”

Before he could even finish the word, Chris had pulled him close by the front of his shirt, his lips surprisingly soft and sweet against Zach’s.  Zach just grinned and looped his arms around Chris’ waist, enjoying this one private moment before they had to go out and face the crowd again.

&&&

 “And, to conclude this toast, I would like to say that I feel God in this Applebee’s tonight.”  Most of the people around the large table chuckled, and John grinned and said with a final flourish, “Congratulations to all my castmates and a huge thank you to our amazing director and mentor, Mr. Abrams!”

Everybody clapped loudly, and Rachel even stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, drawing the attention of the few remaining patrons who weren’t at their table.  With that, John sat back down, rightfully pleased with himself, and set to polishing off the last of his fries.  Not that he had long to enjoy it.

“Ripping off lines from The Office?” Karl muttered, shaking his head and stealing a fry off John’s plate.  “That’s your big idea for a toast?”

“I didn’t rip it off, it was an allusion to a pop culture staple.”

“Uh-huh,” Karl said.  “You know, one day you’re going to have to make up your own jokes.”

John spent a few seconds longer than was comfortable trying to come up with a witty reply, and ended up just sticking his tongue out at Karl.  “Shut it, plant boy.”

Karl clapped a hand over his heart.  “Oh John, you wound me deeply.”

Trying to quickly change the subject, John nodded in the direction of Zach and Chris, who appeared to be arguing very intensely over something.  Then Chris rolled his eyes and Zach broke out into peals of laughter.  “Hey,” John said to Karl, “you think there’s anything going on there?”

“Well, I think they’re finally getting along now.  Thank god.  We didn’t need to have two divas around here.  Divos?  Divas?  Assholes, anyway.”

John shook his head at Karl’s thickheadedness.  “No, I mean do you _think_.  There is _something_.  Going _on_?”

“Do I—?”  Karl looked at John, then over at Chris and Zach, and then back to John again.  “Between those two?  No way.  Are you mental?”

“Well, look at them, they’re all…”  John turned back around to see Zach cramming the last of his burger into his mouth and Chris facing away from him, talking to Zoe now.  “Well, they _were_.”

“Sure they were, John,” Karl said, looking at him with pity.  “Suuuuure they were.”

 

 **Epilogue**

“Shit.  Ooooooh, shit.  Shitshit _shit_ , Zach, you gotta—  Oh, _shit_.”

Zach pulled off Chris with a wet pop.  “Is that the only word you know?  Charming, Christopher.”

Chris groaned, his head thumping back against the ground.  “Well, I _was_ about to come, but since my grandma’s the only one who calls me Christopher…”

He broke off pretty abruptly when Zach wrapped his lips around him again.  As fun as it was to feel Chris squirm with every twist of his tongue, Zach’s whole face was starting to ache, so he went back to sucking hard and playing with Chris’ balls, as he had been when Chris had started up his litany.  Soon enough, Chris’ cries went up in pitch, a sure sign that he was about to erupt over Zach’s tongue.  Zach did try to swallow, but Chris just kept coming and coming, and soon Zach was coughing and wiping his mouth on his sleeve and trying to look like a sex god instead of a teenage boy with numb lips and a sore jaw.

Chris wouldn’t have noticed either way, though.  He’d gone limp against the ground, not even bothering to tuck himself away.  “Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned.  “There is no way that’s the first time you’ve done that.”

“Well, I uh…”  Zach crawled up to lay beside him in the grass.  “I may have looked some stuff up.  On the internet.  And practiced on a cucumber.”

Still panting, Chris laughed a little.  “I can’t decide if that’s sick or kind of hot.  Maybe both.  I’m gonna be jerking off all week to the thought of you sucking off a cucumber.”  He blindly reached over to slap Zach.  “And now I can never go grocery shopping again.”

Zach almost made a comment about how the girth of the cucumber left something to be desired from Chris, but really, there hadn’t been as big of a difference as he had thought.  Seriously, Chris must have been the talk of the locker room, not that Zach wanted to remind him of that.  Though the mental image of Chris wandering around naked, oblivious to the jealous stares of the other guys…

“Fuck, I’m getting hard again,” Zach moaned, reaching down to rub himself through his jeans.  His dick was still a little too sensitive for it, but even the slight pain felt good, a reminder of Chris’ hand roughly stroking him not fifteen minutes ago.

“Hey, slow down there, porn star,” Chris grunted, finally pulling up his pants and underwear, then groping himself lightly through the fabric.  “Next time I want to try you jacking us together, like you were talking about.  That sounds really hot.”

Zach knew Chris was teasing him by calling him a porn star, but still… Chris had gotten pretty loud there at the end.  Luckily, there wasn’t anyone around to hear.  The lot had been abandoned since Zach was a kid – he and his brother used to go there and build forts and play jungle, long since the age Zach suspected Joe really enjoyed it as much as Zach had.

Now, though, Chris and Zach had staked out a little spot under the open air and beaten down the grass – mostly by rolling around in it – to make an area to comfortably lie in.  They’d had to fib to their parents to make it happen, the classic “each told his parents he’s staying at the other’s house” gambit.  Zach did feel a little bit bad about it, but he finally had Chris to himself – _all_ to himself, no danger of somebody walking by or bursting in – so he couldn’t bring himself to really feel sorry for it.

They just laid there side-by-side for awhile, looking up at the few stars they could see and listening to each other’s breathing.  Zach was actually kind of glad they weren’t facing each other – it was the only way he could ask his next question.  “So… you think you’re going to audition again next year?”

He could practically hear the gears whirring in Chris’ head and his heart nearly stopped.  He was pretty sure Chris wouldn’t go back to baseball, but he’d said before that he’d only be doing this one play.  But it wasn’t the end of the world if Chris said no.  They could still see each other, when Zach wasn’t at rehearsal and Chris wasn’t… doing whatever he did when he wasn’t acting or playing sports.  If Chris still wanted to see him, that was.  They hadn’t talked about it – hadn’t talked about much of anything really, except the play and some books and what, precisely, Zach wanted to do to Chris’ body.  Maybe Chris wouldn’t be interested in hanging out if they weren’t doing a play.  Maybe…

Zach had nearly worked himself up into a stomachache when Chris finally asked, “Will you be mad if I say yes?”

“Nope,” Zach said, suppressing a smile even though Chris couldn’t see it.  He fisted his hands in the grass to keep from rolling on top of Chris right then and there.  “But don’t think I’m just gonna let you have the lead role again.”

Chris snorted.  “Uh-huh.  ‘Cause that’s totally what happened.  What play are we doing in the fall, anyway?”

“I don’t think Mr. Abrams has made up his mind yet.  But I’ve been pushing for _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead_.”

“Seriously?”  Chris turned his head to look at Zach.  “You want to memorize Stoppard dialogue?  You can’t bullshit that – you flub one line and you’re screwed.”

Zach was momentarily impressed.  “You know the script?”

Chris looked away again.  “I, uh.  May have a bit of an artistic crush on Gary Oldman.”

“Artistic, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Purely aesthetic.”

“Yup.  Well, no, not like that.”

“Whatever you say, Chris.”


End file.
